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HIBRARYOFCO.NGRESS.f 



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UNITED STATES OF AMEUICj 



THE 



SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



BY ABEL BY^VATER. 




SECOND EDii:i^rii 



of Con£ 



-' v7ao. •.■■-- 
/) LONDON : 
5LISHED BY WILLIAM EVANS AND CO., 

22, WARWICK SQUAEE, PATERNOSTEB EOW. 

HALIFAX: MILNER AND SOWERBY. 

rSHEFFIELD: RODGERS AND FOWLER. 

1854. 






%^ 



ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL. 



'1 PREFACE. 



^ It may very naturally be expected that we should 
> say something about the origin of the " Sheffield 
. I Dialect," and the reasons why it has been con- 
tinued. The first attempt to commit it to writing 
was made at the time when the public mind was 
much excited by the Roman Catholic Emancipa- 
tion Bill, the precious working of which we now 
begin to see, and shall ere long begin to feel. It 
will be remembered that we had two meetings on 
the subject, after which our first letter appeared 
in the columns of the Sheffield Coiirant. Its pub- 
lication gave rise to much speculation as to who 
was its author, and we remember enjoying the joke 
in several companies, where opinions flew swiftly 
round as to who the mysterious writer could be. — 
" Hah," says one, " that chap can wroite better 
nor that ; he's nooa fooil, depend on't." " Oh," 
says another, " o kno him, an o could tell his 
name, if o'd a moind." " Come, then," says a 
third, "let's have it." " Nay," says he, " o*st not 
tell his name, but o kno for a fact at it wer written 
be one at parsons." Of course we offered no 
opposition ; indeed, it would have been utterly 
useless, for no one had the most distant idea that 



IV. PKEFACE. 

it was the production of a grinder. After this, 
several other letters appeared in the different 
papers on various subjects, and were so well re- 
ceived that Mr. Blackwell, the late publisher of 
the Iris, first suggested the idea of publishing a 
pamphlet in the dialect, and at the same time 
proposed several subjects for the author's cogita- 
tion. After a short time the first number of the 
Wheelswarf Chronicle appeared, the sale of which 
far exceeded our expectation. From this circum- 
stance, and others, which from delicacy we shall 
not mention, we continued to publish until we had 
six numbers of the Wheelswarf Chronicle, when 
they were collected and published in one small 
volume, which has long been out of print. Con- 
tinuing to employ the press by this mode of com- 
municating our thoughts, we got access to the very 
lowest of society, and thus directed our energies 
against the principles of infidels. We also kept 
up a close fire against that wretched crime which 
is such a stain upon our country, viz., drunken- 
ness ; and hence the Temperance Chronicles 
appeared; and to ** unfold the principles of good 
living in private life," out came The Gossips ; and, 
last of all, some caricatures upon Owenism. 
Having had such evil principles to contend 
against, our readers will see that in some parts of 
our little work, we have not paid very much atten- 
tion to the Dialect : for this omission, if it be one, 
we must beg the indulgence of our numerous 
friends. 

Having now given a very brief history of the 
origin and progress of our publications, we may 



PREFACE. 



now proceed to some little explanation of cha- 
racters, customs, words, and sentences : — " The 
Cutler's Song," page 33, seems to be a sort of 
caricature on certain characters, w'ho were manu- 
facturers of flat-backs, and were passionately fond 
of plays and dancing; hence originated "penny 
hops." A large room was engaged in some public 
house, and youths of both sexes admitted to dance 
for paying perhaps a penny each, or some small 
trifle. This practice is still observed in some parts 
of Sheffield, and has been the ruin of scores of 
the female sex. " Steem, at lives at Heeley," 
was a manufacturer of flat-back knives, and fre- 
quently brought them by cart loads to the ware- 
houses in Sheffield. There is a tale about an old 
dame at Wadsley in the flat-back line, w^ho had 
coaxed the apprentices to make seventeen flat- 
backs to the dozen, and still not being satisfied, 
she thought she should like the odier knife ; so 
one day when all the lads were in the house, the 
old lady proposed that if they would make the 
other odd knife '* they should have a spice pudding 
on the Sunday;" but we believe the old negro- 
driver was disappointed. 

We may now say something of the Cutler's 
" Lozin." Early in the morning of the day when 
a cutler is at age, the whole neighbourhood is 
made aware of the fact by a peal of bells, which 
happen to be ingots of steel, suspended and struck 
with a hammer, to the great annoyance of all 
around. At night a supper is provided, at the 
conclusion of which the young man is placed in a 
chair upon the table, w'hen the whole company 



VI. PEEFACE. 

Stand round, and each taking a .glass of liquor 
in his hand, they join in singing, or 'shouting, the 
following sentences, which, as their enunciation 
is accompanied by corresponding actions, must be 
admitted to be very *^ full of meaning :" — 

This young man's health, an it shall gooa rahnd, 
It shall gooa rahnd, it shall gooa rahnd ; 

This young man's health, an it shall gooa rahnd. 
It shall gooa rahnd, hoi o ! 

The same repetitions are also used while singing 
the following : — 

Houd yer likker aboon yer chin, &c. 
Oppen yer mahth, an let likker run in, &c. 
O'l houd ya a crahn it's all gone dahn, &c. 

The following stanza, which concludes the cere- 
mony, is sung to another strain, and with addi- 
tional spirit : — 

Here's a health to he, that is nah set free, 

Which once was a prentice bahnd ; 
It is for his sake, this holiday we make. 

An sooa let his health gooa rahnd. 

We are happy to inform our readers that this cus- 
tom is now but seldom practised. 

The Bull- Week — a word about that. The best 
account of the origin of the Bull-week that we 
have heard, is the following. It is said that the 
master cutlers about Walkley and Stannington, 
many years ago, were accustomed to kill a bull, 
and cut it up for their men to feast upon at Christ- 
mas, and the men, in order to pay for the extra 
meat, worked much harder the week before Christ- 
mas than usual ; the beef was commonly called 
then, "bull meit." 



GLOSSARY. 



Abhut, aye but. 

Adder say, I dare say. 

Al, wlQ. 

An, ans, one, ones. 

Anole, too, also. 

Arston, hearthstone. 

Ass, ashes. 

Assnook, under the fire grate. 

At, of the, at the. 

Balm, bound C going). 

Bastiii, beating. 

Beledda, an exclamation to 
which no (particular mean- 
ing is attached ; — supposed 
to be a corruption of the 
Roman Catholic oath, " By 
my Lady." 

Berlin, burying, funeral. 

Bio aJit, blow-out, eating and 
drinking to excess. 

Blunt, brass, money. 

Breet, bright. 

Buckt, beaten. 

Bun, bound (to bind). 

Bur, but. 

Cloice, close (nigh). 

Colt, coat. 

Collar, when the wheel-band 
is entangled with any part 
of the machinery it is xjalled 
a collar. 

Colsh, concussion. 



Corbo, a thick-hafted knife. 
Corker, not to be surpassed. 
Coivks, cokes, cinders. 

Dahn't spaM, to fetch articles 
from a pawn-shop : the allu- 
sion is to a kind of wooden 
case erected in pawnbroker's 
shops, reaching from the 
shop to an upper story, by 
means of which clothes or 
other articles that would not 
be injured by such a pro- 
ceeding, are expeditiously 
conveyed to the shojxman. 

Dee, die. 

Deed, died. 

Deead, dead. 

Dobbs, money. 

Drum, the broad wheel which 
carries the wheel band. 

Dun, diO. 

Een, eyes. 
Elsins, awl blades. 
Entra, a narrow passage. 

Farrantla, decent, upright, 

honourable. 
Flat-back, a common knife. 
Fork-dust, the dry dust made 

in grinding forks. « 
Freeten'd, frightened. 
Fun, found. 



GLOSSABY. 



Ge, Geed, Gen, give, gave, given. 

Ger,Get'n,Gerrin,get,got,geitm. 

Ger aht at gate^ get out of the 
way. 

Goit, a narrow stream of water. 

Grindlecowh, a worn out grind- 
ing stone. 

Guzzle, to drink to excess. 

Ha, hart, have. 

Hah, how, aye {yes). 

HaHn, having. 

Heal, there will. 

Heftpoip, a temporary handle 

used in grinding razors and 

forks. 
Heit, eat. 
Hetin, eaten. 
Hidda, hide, to conceal. 
Holl, (euhsj hole. 
Holl, {v.a.) to expel. 
Hopena, halfpenny. 
Hopple, to chain the wrists or 

ancles. 
HuU,YOom. in a grinding wheel. 

It, in the. Thro it it fair, throw 
it in the fire. 

Jannak, as it should he. 
Jaram, order. Out of jar am, 
out of order. 

Kah, or cah, cow. 
Kale, or Kalo, in turn. 
Kelter, money. 

Letherin, see hastin. 

Let on, met with, lighted on. 

Lig, lay. 

Liggin, lying, recumhent. 

Ma, mak, mayn, make. 
Malak, tumult. 



Marra, synonimous with " be- 
ledda," may possibly have 
been corrupted from " by 
Mary." 

Mo'nt, must not. 

Mumpin, see letherin. 

Mun, man, must. 

Mut, might. 

Mut'nty might not. 

Nebbut, nay but. 

Neet, night. 

Nesh, poor spirited. To dee 

neshjiogive up an enterprize 

dispirited. 
Nobbut, only. 
Nont, aunt. 
No'ther, neither. 
Nuncle, uncle. 

Ontot, on to the. 
O't, of the. 
O'ther, either. 

Rahm, {in the place of) room. 

Reik, reach. 

Reit, right. 

Roite on't, depend upon it. 

Row, tumult. 

Sam, to take up. 

Sap, ale. 

Scar'd, frightened. 

Scran, any thing to eat. 

Scrag, offal, remnant. 

Seet, sight. 

Shank end, latter end. 

Sheddle {schedule), to take the 

benefit of the act 
Shoo, Sha, she. 
Shoo'd, she would, she had. 
Shoo'l, she will. 
Skirrick, a trifling coin. 
'Sloik, it is like. 



GLOSSARY. 



Soft, fond, silly. 
Strap, credit. 
Swatj to throw down 
violence. 



with 



Ta, tak, take. 

Ta, thah, thou. 

Thaist, that is the. 

Theal, there will. 

TJu'oo, from. 

Throo't, through the, from the. 

Tomvia, bread. 

Tuhbe, to be. 

Unhethowt, {on bethought^ to 
think upon, remembered, 
reminded. 

Wa, weel, well. 
We, with. 



Wehhur, webbut, well but. 

We'd, we would, we had. 

We'm, we must. 

We'n, we have. 

We'st, we shall. 

Whack, share. 

Wheelsiuarf, the yellow sludge 

formed during grinding on 

a wet stone. 
JVick, alive. 
Wollopin, see mumpin. 
Worni, were not. 
Wotn ya, what do you, what 

have you. 

Yabbut, yea but. 
Yo'm, you must. 
Yo'n, you have. 
YoWt, you are the. 
Fo's^, you shall. 



GENEEAL KULES FOE UNDEESTANDING THE 
OETHOGEAPHY. 

D final, in all words ending with and, and g in ing, are 
generally dropped, as stan, stand, ihinkin, thinking. 

/, pronoun, changes to o ; as o've, I have ; sometimes to e : 
i long changes to oi, as foi7ie, fine. 

^is sometimes added to verbs, as keepn,iva7itn. 

Oudindiow, dipthongs, change to ah; a.s ahr, our; pahnd, 
pound ; gahn, gown ; nah, now. 

The, article, is generally contracted to t, and added to the 
preceding or succeeding word; as " at end at wheel," " at the 
end of the wheel." When occurring between one word end- 
ing, and another beginning with t, it is omitted ; as " at top," 
" at the top." 

Y ending monosyllables changes to o and oi; as mo, moi, my ; 
and at the end of dissyllables to a as moighta, mighty. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

Preface iii. 

Glossaby vii. 

Rules for Understanding the Orthography ix. 

Conversation I. — ^News — Co-operative club — Shaving 
by steam — Luke tbe barber — Groncjad's berrin — 
Eailway to Wadsley — Charity lads flying — Eil 
Heftpoip's speech on the march of intellect — A 
regular malak in the kitchen — NeW Water Company 
. — Old Cobbett — Mr. Eodger's show-room 13 

Conversation II. — Jooa Slitspring's lozin — Names of 
* the company — Groves's saw factory — "Oud toimes" 
and " now a days" — Sour oat cake — Supper disasters 
— Yarmouth beef and resurrection pie — New coin — 
Corn laws — Swing — Political union — The Cutler's 
Song — Bull- week misfortunes — The squinting law- 
yer — North pole broken 23 

Conversation III. — Queer signs — Horticultural wonder 
— A bear's nest — Courting excursion — Process of 
making a penknife — Tooth drawing by steam — A 
conjunction — Bell's Life — A night in York Minster 
— Phrenology-^Figaro — Carlile 39 

Conversation IV. — Address to the public — Gemini and 
Carlile — The doctrine of necessity — Authenticity of 
ihQ Scriptures 59 



CONTENTS. XI. 

Occasional Papers : — 

Letter tot King T2 

Conversation between a Freethinker and Jack 
TMieelswarf 75 

Metaphysical questions and answers 81 

A letter to all the Wesleyan-Methodist preachers . . 85 

Correspondence with the SniirFiELD Newspapers :— 

A grinder's opinion of a certain gentleman's speech, 
in Paradise-square, in the year 1829 89 

Christmas singing 93 

Prize-fighting 94 

Temperance Chronicle : — 

No. I. — Mr. Buckingham's hiU 97 

No. II. — Castigation for a drunkard — Drunken 
"ways and means" — Effects of drunkenness — 
Trimmings 108 

No. III. — Life of Jooa Guzzle, a reclaimed drunkard 
— ^A contrast ; the drunkard's home, and the home 
of the pious temperance man 117 

The Gossips: — 

No. I. — Introduction — A forenoon spent in " neigh- 
bouring" 126 

No. 11. — Dinah Dubbletung's tea drinking 139 

No. III. — Jonna Doolittle's fortune 150 

Miscellaneous Conversations : — 

No. I. — ^Jonna Flatstick's description of their wheel 
— Dog fighting — ^A blow up — The toper's creed 
— Committee for the suppression of Christianity 
— Mkacles — Twelve subjects for the grave con- 
sideration of twelve wise men — The Irishman — 
The Quaker — ^Joint Stock Companies — Jooa Guz- 
zle at church — Buckingham's claims — How to get 
a good husband — A middle piece 161 



Xll. CONTENTS. 

No. II.— Signs of Christmas— Children's wants— Bil 
Heftpoip's voyage round the world — The stranger 
— Love letters — A plate — Sorrow met half way — 
— Questions about women — Questions for would- 
be philosophers 182 

No. Til. — Discussion on the advantages and disad- 
vantages of the married state — Cure for the tooth- 
ache — How to spell" Corner" — Jooa Guzzle burked 
— Grace before meat 199 

No. IV. — Lord Mayor — Jooa Guzzle in Spain — The 
haunted castle 215 

No. V. — Subjects for the Annual — A life sketch — 
The Gossips' petition to the Queen — Influence of 
female beauty in a good cause — Learned women 
— ^Value of woman — Socialism — Dissection of a 
sheep's head — Hard words, and their signification 
— 'The Owenite's creed — Curious calculations.. .. 226 

Dickey Otley at the Music-Hail, July 20, 1836 248 

The Shevvild chap's opinion abaht proize feitin 258 

The Shevvild chap's opinion of Kobert Owen's Socialism, 

as exhibited in the Social Bible 267 

The Sheaf Bridge orators, or a night in the Owenite's - 
sanctuary 278 

The phrenological farrago of Charles Thorold Wood, 

Esq., Wheelswarft 287 



THE 



SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



CONVERSATION I. 

Guide — Gud morning, sur ; oVe heeard at hah 
yo wantn a chap to sho ya throot factoriz, an sitch 
loik. 

Gentleman — Yes, my man, and if you will be 
so kind as to conduct me to those places, I will 
give you five shillings. 

Guide — ^Yo will? Wa, ol tak ya onna whear for 
that ; it al be't best day's wark o've dun for menny 
a month ; an yo'st gooa to ahr wheel furst. 

Gent. — With all my heart; and I hope you 
will enter into as much conversation with your col- 
leagues as possible. 

Guide — Tubbe shure o will ; nobbut yo mo'nt 
laff at are toke. Yo seen yon steppins at end at 
wheel? Wa, that's are hull ; an yo mun moind yer 
coitlaps duz'nt catch't drum; yo mun keep cloice to 
me till yo gotten uppat hull arston, an then yo can 
sit yo dahn and §mook yer poip. 

B 



14 . THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Gent. — Is this the place, Guide ? 

Guide — Hah, thatst dooar ; in we ya ! (Guide 
shouts) — Hey, oud "Wheelswarf! hah gooas it? 
Dusta hear onna news nah ? 

Jack — Hah, t' Dutch as tain Holland. 

Guide — Moi oi ! oud lad, thah art sharp : but 
wot dusta think abaht King a France an that set? 

Jack — 0, they loikn eggs to weel for me ; 
we'st want another generashon a hens, if we 
keepn that squad here long. 

Guide - Wa, whear mun we send him ? 

Jack — Whoy, send him tot King a Spain to 
help him to may a perricot for't Virgin. But wot 
al becum a Polignac, o wonder ? 

Guide — Wot al becum on him ? — Whoy, theyl 
throttle him, its loik; o'd have all sitch as him 
hang'd an chopt as small as a horse, an throne 
dahnt goit. Thah shud o heeard wot Bro'me sed 
abaht him it square. It made mo blud run cowd 
e me vanes ; an for all o wer squeezed ta death, o 
cud a staid all't neet to a heeard him. 

Jack — Hah, o kno Bro'me's a rattler ; he'l mak 
sum on em stare, when he spaiks it Hahce this 
seshon ; an't tuther three's dacent chaps, mun : 
theyl do summat for uz, thah ma roite on't. O 
shud'nt wonder if they dooant thro't gam laws aht, 
an then abodda al ger a bit a hare on as awn 
shooitin, withaht gerring up tot knees in a man- 
trap, or havvin abaht a dozen gret fat brussen 
gamkeepers at as heels o'ther. 

Guide— Thear's non sitch luck, lad ; theyl tak 
care at gam for ther sens. Bur o'd ne'er heed that, 
if they'd squasht corn bill ; that ad be't foinest 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 15 

thing for't pooar fooaks; we'st want non a yer 
operative clubs ; nou, not sooa. 

Jack — Abbut thah mo'nt say nowt agean them 
no'ther. 

Guide — Wa, mun, o near reitla kno'd hah they 
mannidg'd em ; bur o'm thinking at hah it al tak 
mooar honnestanor's stilling nah-days to mak a job 
on't ; ift chap turns a rooag at keeps stooar-hahce, 
then yore in for't ; an besoide, thah cahnt boi the 
stuff no'ther cheaper nor better nor o can ; an when 
ta's sed all ta can, thah stans a chonce a payin the 
munna all't days o the loif, withaht bein a skirrick 
better fort. Tubbe sure thah can draw the brass 
aht after sich a toim ; bur o daht thahl not have a 
deeal a intrist for the kelter, when t' stooar-hahce 
chap's gotten his whack. (Reik me a leet, Bil, me 
poip's aht.) 

Jack — Oh, thah kno's nowt abaht it, mun. 
T' stooar-hahce chap cahnt be a rooag varra 
weel. He's f coast to foind securata, an he cahnt 
lay a hopena aht withaht committee kno's all abaht 
it, nor he mo'nt sell nowt uppa strap nother ; be- 
soide, ivvera chap it consarn has a chonce to look 
at books, for they're awlis oppen'd ivvera quarter ; 
bur o'm thinkin at hah if they loikn ale hofe as 
weel as thah duz, we shuddent tak em in. 

Guide — Webbut ween had enuff a this; han ya 
heeard a this new invenshon wot they'n fun aht 
latela ? 

Jack — Wots it abaht? 

Guide-— Whoy, they sen at hah t' barbers is 
bahn to shave fooaks be steam. 

Jack — Cum, cum, oud chap, thaht trailin us 



16 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

nah ; we cahnt swalla that no'ther ; — we'st have 
that swapt at onna rate. 

Guide — Wa, t' barber teld me sooa his sen. 

BiL Heftpoip — Allads, cud frend, thah's geen 
us a clencher at last ; but sum at barbers is sich 
loiars. O'l ge the a sample a wot a gret loiar 
Little Luke wor (thah knode him, he liv'd in Grin- 
die gate). He sed at hah he wer wonce bahn up 
t'Oud Park Wood, an a gret bare cum running reit 
streit oppen mahth at him ; an he sed, *' o dubbled 
up me shet sleeve, ramm'd me arm reit dahn his 
throit, laid oud on his tail, and turn'd him insoid 
ahterds ;" and if ivver thah heeard a bigger loi e 
the loif, spaik. 

Jack — Hah he sartanla wor a gret loiar ; ivvera 
toime he oppen'd his mahth, it wert soign of a 
loi. [Enter child.'] 

Child — Dad, me mam sez yore to cum hooam, 
me nuncle's cum'd we me nont, an they're booath 
bahn to me grondad's berrin. 

BiL — Pooar oud crater ! he's had a sooar toime 
out ; heez near been reit sin his collar booan wer 
brocken won neet as he wer bahn tot play, we a 
strooak o'ert shin, at throde him intot muck, an 
brake his heead ageean a boolder. [Shouts to the 
child] Wa, o st cum enah ; ger hooam we thee. O 
near seed t' loike, here's awlis summat cummin to 
backen a bodda ; o'st have moourning to boi for 
ahr oud lass and mesen, an't stuff an't macking al 
coss aboon a bit. 

Guide — Has he left the owt. Bil? 

BiL — Whoy, hearl be a bit, a reckon ; thear's 
a kah an a kofe to divoide amang noin on uz. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. IT 

Jack — Whoy, thearl not be a leg a piece for 
ya. 

[At this moment the conversation was interrupted 
by a person of the name of Boh Beanhead, who, 
I was inform^ed, came from Wadsley with blades 
to grind.] 

Guide — Nah, Bob, hah ahr tha gerrin on we 
yore colledge ? 

Bob Beanhead — Hoo, bless the loif, its finisht 
long sin, an we'd ere so menna speeches, an proim 
ans anole, when it wer oppen'd. Jooa Slitspring 
geed uz a lectur uppat necessata a havvin a railway 
to Wadsley for't better conveyance a blackberries 
an flatbacks to She wild market, an he proved it it 
spoit a ther teoth, becos he sed at hah we'd awlis 
been fooast to send t' knoives to Shevvild uppen a 
jackass, an wit lads making em trot, they shack "n 
t' re wits aht befooar they get'n em tot warehas. 
But if w^e'd a railway, he sed they'd cum sooa easy 
at hah we shudn't need to revvit em at all. Bur o 
avver,thear w^er won chap at sed summat at o cud'nt 
tak in ; he wanted to mak us believe at hah t' 
world turn'd rahnd ; but not sooa Ift world turnd 
rahnd, wud'nt all't water run aht a ahr well? hah, 
sloik it wud ; an besoid, we shud all tumble off, 
shudn't we ? An then he sed at hah thear wornt 
a man it mooin, when ivvera chap e Wadsley 's seen 
his face menny a toime. Bur at last he teld us at 
sun wornt a foiar, an o thowt he cum up we nowt 
hardla then ; it's loik he thowt Wadsley chaps wer 
all soft, becos ween letten us poips at sun menny 
' a toim, an if it wornt foiar, hah cud we ? 



18 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack — wish we mut have a railroad to Wads- 
ley, becos we shud ger us stooans for less brass 
then. 

Guide — Thah sees nah, w^ot t' march a intellects 
dun for us, we inventin t' railways ; nobbut look 
backards, when they yus't to gooa to London uppat 
pack-horses ; wa then they went it waggin at taid 
em seven days, an after that, it fore day's floi. But 
when t' cooach begun agooin e twenta hahwers, it 
wer thowt a merrical ; but if we'd teld us fath'rs at 
we wer bahn to Lunnun afooar nooin, they'd sar- 
tanla a thowt we wer crazy. 

Jack — An sooa they wud, mun ; but wot dusta 
think t' march a intellect's dooin for t' charrata 
lads ; it's thowt be sum foaks at hah they're bahn 
to larn em to floy, for they're beeldin summat at 
top at schooil for em to start off on. 

Guide — Na, na, oud chap, it al not doo> mun ; 
can tell the all abaht it. Thah kno's at hah t' 
charrata lads awlis play'd it chetch-yard, an at last 
they fon it aht at hah t' deead fooaks cud'nt be 
quoiat for em, sooa they sent em into't St. James's 
street ; bur they kick't up to much noise thear, 
sooa thah see's they wor determin'd ta tak't 
young rascals haht a ivvera bodda's gate, an nah 
they'r bahn to may em a play grahnd at top at 
schooil. 

AppREisTiCE — Mester, we wanten sum sewit, t' 
rattens has hetten all't hofe pahnd at wer left 
uppat horsin t'last neet. 

Master (shouts) — O'l sewit yo ya scamp, o'l 
larn yo to leeave t'sewit uppat horsin, o will. Ser 
off hooam an ax are oud las for sum brass, an if 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 19 

yer not back in a minnit, o'l ge yo sum kick for 
not takkin t' cowks up e yer kail this mo'nin. 

[At this moment one of our company rose up, 
mounted the drum box, and made the following 
speech.] 

Bill Heftpoip — Mester Gentlemen ; o rala 
cud nt oud nooa longer, yo'n been praisin't march 
intellect. Yis, an we'n hed a varra foine swatch 
at march o intellect, it passin o't beer bill. Gen- 
tlemen, thear nivver wor a softer thowt cum aht 
ot crazy brain's o silly Luke An they sen at hah 
its to morraloize t'cuntra; bur o'd ax em, wud 
onna bodda run his heead into a foiar as he muttent 
be burnt? or wud onna chap run heead long inte't 
rivver, as he muttent be drahned ? Bur its just 
as loikla at they'd no'ther be burnt nor drahnded 
we dooin as oVe sed, as its loikla for't beer bill to 
morraloize 't cuntra. Nivver nooa government it 
world turn'd aht sich infatuated madness as ahr's 
az dun, wit passin a this bill. Its t'warst act at 
ivver cum throo betweent walls o Sent Stivvins. 
Gentlemen, if ivver t'morrals ov a nashon wor 
blasted boi legislativ innactments, t'morrals o 
England's blasted nah. Nobbut look wot it al doo 
for us ; it al ge ivvera voile vaggabond a chonce 

to oppen his hahce for tipplin : w in, cardin, 

feitin, an ivvera koind o villana ats a^Iis atiieels o 
drunkenness al be athahsand toim^smboar common 
nor ivver it wor knone afooar nab- T'cuntra seems 
to be turned into one common pot hahce, for yo cahnt 
put yer heead into nooa village bur yol foind a 
Jerry shop {heah heah) : an then twark's neglekted 
childer's clamd, twoife's cursint day at ivver shoo 



20 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

kno'd ther fath'er : grooacer stands in fort, pop 
shop gets his clooaz, an he's fooast to burn char- 
coil at Sunday ; he's spent brass at he shud a paid 
trent we — in cum'st baleys, trails him off tut gaol ^ 
an his woif an his hofe-clam'd-to-deeath childer 
gooaz tot warkas, an this is yer march o intellect. 
Gentlemen, we'st nivver nother ger a sup o gud 
ale, nor a bit o gud bahm. 

Guide — Allads, Bil, thaht a ratler o avver! 
thah's geen it em reit this toime. O'l bet owt 
he'al be sum jobs fort doctors. Belledda ! o'st 
not be supproized if there's a plague it tahn 
afooar long, for they'l ge it sum fizzic. Nah 
heah's the dinnah. Bill. (Boy enters,) 

Boy — A fath'er we'n all been sca'rd haht on uz 
wits. 

Bil — Whoy, wot's been up ? 

Boy — Wot's been up ! whoy we'n all been up 
an dahn anole, for just when ahr Nanse wor bahn to 
ta't broth off at foiar, a great bahncin ratten jumpt 
aht at asnook ; dahn went broth uppat arston, an 
aht rould sheep heead uppat flooar. Suke thro'dt 
dish clahte at tratteu, an catch'd me muther ore't 
een. Sal wur gerrin aht at gate an shoo tumbled 
oer't sheep heead amang't broth. Tom struck at 
tratten witbeesom, an 't heead floid intoo a panshon 
ful a watter, an nok't soide haht. Sooa, yo seen, 
we'n hed a noist moss ; for wot wit broth, an wot 
wit watter, we were ommast up to't knees. Bur 
twarst all Dick Greeda's dog run away wit 
sheep heead, an sooa me muther's sent yo sum 
troip 

Bil — Wa yo'n hed sum fun, o avver. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 21 

JooA Ckocus (comes in smoking) — Nah oud 
lad, thah sees theyn geten fact for't New Walter 
Cumpaniia. 

Jack — Hah that's anuther sample o't inarch ov 
intellect, we'm be fooast to ha't watter at their 
proice, and mo'nt use aboon sich a quant ata 
no'ther. An om teld at hah they'l send a chap it 
hahses onna toime, to see if we wasten watter, an if 
we dun they'l o'ther foin us, or else send us tut 
oil. But if onnabodda tumbles into't dams and 
gers drahned theyl be transported for disturbin 
twatter. 

JooA Ceocus — O hah, theyl transpooart deead 
fooaks will they; abber weel brust dams afooar 
we'l Stan it. We mo nt ha na watter officers 
cummin into ahr hahses when theyn a moind, 
no'ther. Ahr oud lass sez shod swat a buckitful a 
watter uppat furst chap at cums e ahr hahce uppa 
that harmnd— an shoo will anole in a jiffa. Theyr 
as greedy a gerrin brass as oud Cobbett. 

Jack — Oud Cobbett ! Thah's just unbethowt 
ma; oud Cob's seld his sen for six months for two 
hundred soviins, to be sho\^Ti up in a caravan all 
oer't countra. sartanla think he'd sell his sen 
to the d — 1 for sovrins. reckon weest ha em 
shah tin t'next ShcYvild fair — *' Walk in ladies 
and gentlemen to see this grate political animal, 
hest wunder at wold, he'st mooast vorashas appe- 
toit fer kelter ov onna beast e allt collection. 
Feed him we this an hell gooa onna rooad, an 
doo onna thing. He"s not loik tuther animals, 
he nivver rooars when he s fed ; bur when he's 
clam'd he mays a ten toimes bigger noise nor all't 



22 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

loians it tahwer. Only one shillin ladies and 
gentlemen ; yo'l remember he'st foinest animal at 
koind at ivver were pup't, an if yo miss this 
chonce its mooar nor ten to won if ivver yon 
anuther." — This al be toight, Bil, weant it ? 

BiL — Hah, lad, it will anole. 

Gent — Is that person grinding a sword. 
Guide ? 

Guide — A sooard ! nou, not sooa ; he's groindin 
a razor forMester Rodgers' sho room. 

Gent — A razor ! you astonish me. 

Guide — He is, o avver ; its ommast two feet 
long an three inch an a hofe brooad, an sevven 
pahnd weight ; yo nivver seed sich a razor e yore 
loif, kno. 

Gent — No, never. Messrs. Rodgers are cutlers 
to their Majesties, are they not ? 

Guide — Hah, they'rt King's cutlers, an that 
chap groinds for em : yo mun ha sum o their razors, 
an yo'l shave yer sen loik winkin; yo'l nobbut need 
to clap em on to yer chin an yer beard's off afooar 
yo kno'n owt abaht it. 

Guide — say, Mester, o think we'st ha no 
toime to gooa tut factiiz to neet, yo seen its ommast 
dark nah ? 

Gent— no, by no means, we cannot go any 
where else to night, but if 1 have another oppor- 
tunity, I shall be glad to avail myself of your 
assistance in the same manner. 



23 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



CONVERSATION II. 

GruiDE — Mester yore just man at o wanted to 
see. O'm bahn to Jooa Slitspring s lo'zin, to neet, 
an if yol gooa o kno yol be made welcom, an yol 
ger plenta o ale ta yer b^ck, an some beef an 
puddin to yer bella , an besoide, we'st ha a goose. 

Gent — Thank you, Guide, I shall be glad, in- 
deed, of such an opportunity, not so much for the 
beef and pudding you talk of, as the enjoyment of 
the conversation, &c., and if you will act in the 
capacity of Guide once more, half a sovereign shall 
recompense your kindness. 

Guide- -Wa yore jannak, o a^^er; yore't best 
chap at ivver o let on e mo loif. cud loik tubbe 
yore sarvant ivvera day. 

Gent — Guide, do you know most of the persons 
that are in\dted to supper ? 

Guide — Hah, sloike o doo. Theal be mesen 
ail yo, an Jack Wheels warf, an oud Samma 
Squarejoint, an Luke Thi'eesquare, and Bil Heft- 



24 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT 

poip, and Jerra Flatback, and Jooa Slitspring, an 
his fath er and muther-- ! an heal be Jooa Slit- 
spring's mester, an be chonce summada at o doont 
kno. say, Mester if yo'n a moind, we'l just pop 
into Groves's saw factra ; its just heah, and yo'st 
look at their cirkiller saws. 

Gent — I should very much like that^ for I 
have often heard speak of the superior temper of 
their saws. 

Guide — Wa, then, cum up heah, an yo'st see 
sum proime ans. Nobbut luk ya, theahs a saw 
foive or six foot rahnd. That saw al cut a foreteen 
foot deal in a minnit. Bless yer sowl, man, it ad 
saw a world e two if it were wood. Nah then, yo'st 
look at sum little toina ans. See yah, heeah's won 
heeah abaht a inch-an-a-hofe across. Nah, yo seen, 
tbease is to saw oivry an booan, an horn, an pearl, 
and sich loik, and varra yuseful tooils they are, 
anole, bur o avver, we mun gooa or else we'st beta 
late fo't suppa. 

Gent — What time is the supper to be on the 
table ? 

Guide- — Abaht six o'clock. 

Gent — Then we must hasten. Have we far to 
go? 

Guide — Nou, its nobbut just on yond street an 
da.hn another, an then we gooan a bit farther, an 
turns to as left, streit throo a entra^ an up a yard, 
an then wear at it ; if yo mayn haste, we'st be 
there in a minnit. (Knocks at the door, and Mrs. 
Slitspring opens it.) 

Guide — say, Nanna, ove browt me frend 
wimma : o reckon its all reit. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 25 

Mrs. Slitspeing — Cum in, cum in, thah'cl na 
kaslion to ax that soft question, if tbah'd browt 
liofe a scooar frends, it ad a been all reit. Preya, 
do cum in, Sur, yore as welcom at hooam. [Here 
the husband apologizes for his wifes blunder.] 
" Yo mun ta na nooatice a are Nannab, sboo awiis 
spaiks as sboo tbinks; sboo ment at bad vo"d be 
as welcom beab as if yo wor at yer awn babce. 

Gent- -Tbank you, Sir, I believe I am welcome, 
for I really tbink tbat tbe Sbeffield people are tbe 
most free and liberal people of any in Yorksbire. 

Guide — Wa, oVe beeard tbat sed afooar, and o 
believe its reit anole. 

OuD Samma Square joint — say, Jerra, beab's 
different toimes for prentis lads nab, tbrubbe wot 
tbey wor wben tbee an me wor prentis, is nt tber, 
oud lad ? 

Jerra Flatback — Hab, tbey'n better toimes 
on"t nab, booatb e beitin and clooas ; we n bad 
menni a mess a nettle poiridge an brawis on a 
Sunda monin, for us brekfast ; an it wor nobbut a 
sup a bot watter tem uppa sum wotcake, we a bit a 
fat in, at made bear a star, an tbear a star : an as 
for clooas, us coit clotb wor awlis as cooarse as if it 
ad been wovven tbroo a noin barred gate ; an us 
britcbes made a letber, butten'd rabnd us bips, an 
raicb'd dabn tot cap on us knees ; an for all meit 
wor so cbeeap, we varra seldom tasted off a Sundiz 
— yo mut a bowt it at tuppence-bopena a pabnd, an 
if yo'd twenta pabnd at wonce, tbey'd a geen ya 
a sbeep beead in. Samma, dusta remember bab 
menni names we bad for sabwer wotcake ? 

Oud Samma Squarejoint — kno'nt lad ; bur o 



26 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

think we'd foive or six. Let s see ; Slammak wer 
won, an Flat-dick wer anuther ; an't tuther 
wor — a dear, mo memra fails ma — Flannel an 
Jonta ; an-an-an-an — bless me, wot a thing it is 
tubbe oud, mo memra gers war for ware, bur o kno 
heah's anuther; o'st think on enah. 0, it wer 
Tooa Clate. A, Jerra, heah's menni a thahsand 
dogs nah days, at's better dun too nor we wor 
then ; an them wert golden days a Hallamshoir, 
they sen. An they happen wor fo't mesters. 
Hofe at prentis lads e them duys wor letherd, 
whoile ther skin wor skoi blue, an clam'd whoile 
ther booans wer bare, an work'd whoile they wor 
as knock-kneed as oud Nobbletistocks. Thah nivver 
sees nooa nock-need cutlers nah ; nou, not sooa ; 
they'n bettor mesters nah, an they n better sooat a 
wark anole. They dooant mezher em we a stick, 
as oud Natta Hall did. But for all that, we'd none 
a yer wirligig polishing : nor Tom Dockin scales, 
wit bousters cumin off ; nor yer sham stag, nor 
sham revvits, an sich loik — tnoives wor better made 
then, Jerra. 

Jerea Flatback — Hah, they wor better made, 
they made tnoives for yuse then, but they mayn 
em to sell nah. 

[Mrs. Slitspring enters and addresses herself to 
the compamj,] — reckon yo begin to think yore 
ta ha na supper to neet ; its varra toirsom ; we n 
been a nahwer an a hofe e troin to cut yond goose 
up, an wear no fooreddayit : (but for mo part, o 
sartanla beleeve at hah shoe's a ganner.) Sooa yo 
seen Dame Flatback ger oud a won leg, an o ger 
oud on anuther^ thinkin yo no'ne we'd pull em off 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 27 

— for we cuddent cut em — an't oud dame's hand 
slipt off, an shoo tumbled backards, an nockt 
haster uppat beef, ant beef intot asnook, an we 
sprottlin abaht to ger up, slapt her hand into a 
posnitful melted butta, an ore that went. Wa 
then, ahr Jooa get tachet tot goose, ant furst 
strooak e struck, grava flew all ore't winda, ant 
tunyans floid chock e mo math — (biir o thowt we 
shud happen be short, sooa o popt em in agean) — 
bur avver, Jooa cuddent ger a passidge wit 
tachet : sooa they'n tain it tot circkiller saw, to cur 
it up theah ; nobbnt o daht it al be cowd, sooa 
yo'd as weel begin a't beef furst. 

Gent — Who says beef gentlemen? 

Jack— Nobbada sed nowt, Sur. 

Gent --Will you take a small bit of beef? 

Guide — Nou, o'st not ha a bit. 

Gent — Perhaps you dont like beef ? 

Guide — Not haht o me seet, Sur, o dooant 
ioik it. 

Gent — Come, then^ let me help you to a 
little. 

Guide — Na, o dooant Ioik a little. 

Gent — Shall I help you to a small bit of pud- 
ding? 

Guide — Nou, o'st not ha a bit. 

Gent — Why, I am sure it (is uncommonly 
nice. 

Guide — Abber, o mo'nt ha a bit a puddiii 
no'ther. 

Gent — I am sorry I cannot help you to a little 
beef. 

Guide — Yo ean^ if yo'n a moind : cut me a 



28 TrIE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

piece, man, abaht a pahnd ; o want non o yer 
fashonable bits : o should be bitting all't neet ; 
reik ma a rooit a sallaro, Jerra, witta ? 

Jack — Thrust that point dahn heah, o'm 
ommas tchooakt. Mester, will ya cut oud Samma 
a piece a beef, an ler it be tinsoid, and varra ten- 
der ; toud chap has na teeth, soo if he cahnt mump 
it, he ma suck it. 

Gent — With the greatest pleasure ; any other 
gentleman like a piece ? 

BiL Heftpoip — Can yo cut me a boo an, Sur ? 
loik a booan ; o Ve hveard em say — 

" Tnearest grahnd, tsweetest gress ; 
Tnearest booan, tsweetest flesh." 

If tetto z is mush't o'l ha a sup o grava amang em. 
say, Go 'id thah mut a left abodda a bit o sal- 
lara ; when thah heits sallara, thah't just loike a 
horse heitin karrats. 

Gent — Will any gentleman take a piece of 
pudding ? 

JooA SuTSPEiNG — O'st ha sum when o've 
hetten this — but near heed, lig it a won soid o me 
plate, an ge me sum branda so'ce. 

Jack — Jooa, this branda so'ce is as sahwer as 
vargas. 

Mistress Slitspbing [smells at the sauce] — 
Hah, lad, an sooa it is; ond dame Squarejoints 
putten 'allegar in it rahm a branda ; yo can near 
ger nobbada to do nowt loik yer sen. 

[The next half hour was occupied in a ivay, so 
as to. preclude all conversation, except now and then 
a word in praise of the beef, dx-.] 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 29 

Jebra Flatback, f mato an ohservation.) — It's 
menna a munth sin o hate hofe as much beef as 
oVe dun to neet. 

Gent -Will any gentleman take apiece more? 

JooA Slitspring — -O'stnot; o rala beleeve at 
heitin ta's aboddiz appetoit away. 

Jack Wheelswaef — Nou, lad, a mo'nt ha na 
mooar to neet. 

Luke Threesqu ABE- — Ost not; o thinks Sur, 
if a bodda were to live a this road all along, they'd 
soon ha't gaht. 

Gent — How do you live in a general way ? 

Jerra — Whoy, at shank end at 'tweek we livven 
mooastly uppa Yarmouth beef and resurreckshon 

Gent — ^Yarmouth beef and resurrection pie ! I 
do'nt know what you mean. 

Jerra — Nou, yo re better off. Yarmouth beef 
meeans red herrins, and a resurreckshon poy's 
made a booans an tettoes, and scrag ends a oud 
meit ; if ya seed won oppen'd, yer chaps ad watter 
whoile ya rooar'd ; yo mut venter to ge a shillin 
for iwera drop a grava wot sparkled. 

Gent — Mrs. Slitspring, every gentleman seems 
to have made an excellent supper, the table is now 
at your pleasure. {All were rising when) 

Old Mr. Slitspring — exclaimed — Stop pigs! 
if ya begun loik brutes, yo'st end loik Christians 
for wonce ; (so he returned thanks and the table 
ivas cleared,) 

Jack — say, Jerra, hasta seen onna o this new 
coin, ats cum'd aht latela, at two for three- 
hopence ? 



30 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jerha — Nou, nor thee nother ; o think at hah 
they'd ne'er mak threefardin pieces o avver. 

Jack — Yabber o have, thah'd as weel say o'm a 
loiar. 

Jerra — Pretha, wot king's rein are they in ? 

Jack — Whoy, George 't fourth ; an as pratta a 
coin as ivver o clapt me een on. 

BiL — It's a bit oddish at nobbada it cumpana's 
ne'er seen non bur thee Jacka, and besoide its 
not varra loikla at they'd ma threehopena pieces, 
an two for threehopence, wot duz thah think, 
Jooa ? 

Jooa Slitspring — O'l believe it when o see it, 
bur not till dun yo think it lo>kla, fath'er ? 

Old Mr. Slitspring — dooant kno, lad ; 
theyn happens made em a purpos to boi red herrins 
we, becos, thah kno's heahs a menna at three- 
fardins a piece, an if thah ta's a penna for won 
thahl ger a fardin's worth a pins aht or else a oud 
hopena ; heah's no knoin lad, it happen is sooa. 

Guide — reckon thah't havvin us a bit, 
Swarfa; thah hetcht that uppa yore hull arston, 
didntta? Can thah say at thah's seen a Idng 
George coin at two for three hopence, wethaht 
laffin? 

Jack — Hah o can, nah An as yo'n sed om 
tellin ioi, o'l just sho ya two. (They all 
immediately rise up, and Jack throws down a 
penny and a halfpenny upon the table.) 1^1 ah, 
is'nt them two for threehopence, eh? (Loud bursts 
of laughter.) 

Jerra — Here, Jack, sup for that ; thah'l ne'er 
be bet. 



IHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 31 

Samma Squarejoint — Wot, is ther oniia ne^YS 
stirrin, Jerra ? 

Jerha — Hah, sorra news anole ; dusnt ta se 
hah't stacks is blazin up an dahn't countra? 
If tha gooan on a tMs way, we'st ha no tomma 
sooin. 

Samma Squarejoint — ^Wa, wots tubbe dun 
to mend it, abodda ad think we cahnt be na 
war. 

Jerra — We'st ne'er be reit whoilt corn laws is 
throne aht ; then thah kno's we cud truck for com, 
an he'd be plenta a wark for us all. 

Samma Squarejoint — Wa, then, wots tubbe 
dun wit farmers, becos if we trucken for forrin 
corn, they wod'nt need to mak sum ; and if they 
did nt ma sum, they'd be aht a wark, an ad be 
fooast ta gooa to't warkas. 

Jerra Flatback — 0, tlanlords shud sattle 
trents. 

Samma - -Wa, bur if trents is sattled, an corn's 
sattled, hah's taxes tubbe paid ? 

Jerra Flatback- -0, ahr king owt to sheddle, 
an then we shud ha nooa taxes to pay : o'm shure 
he mut sheddle weel enuff, an he mut live weel 
anole whoile he wor it jail. 

BiL — Is'nt it enuff to mak a chap hate his cun- 
tra, to think at ivvera pooar fella's fooast to pay his 
munna to keep a stannin arma marching up an 
dahn't cuntra e toime e peace ; an nobbat look hah 
much ahr foine ministers heits up ivvera year e 
ther sallaries : an let's have universal suifridge 
anole ; hofe at cuntra's clammin to deeath nah. 

Jack — O'm not exactla a thah opinion, Bil : 



32 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

thah tokes abaht tministers heiting sallara ; nah o 
think at tministers has a reit to heit wot they'n a 
moind, as weel as onna bodda else ; an as to uni- 
versal suffrin, thah't quoit aht, because if thahl 
nobbut look rahnd thee, thahl see universal suffrin 
enuff, withaht gerrin a act fort. 

Jerra — Webbut, o avver, o'm not much free- 
ten'd abaht stacks beein afoiar, hear s ten toims 
mooar sed nor s true abaht em. 

Guide- can tell thee won thing, an that's not 
two, if thah gooas intot cuntra villidges, an oppens 
the mahth, an wer bahn to say masheen, thah'd be 
tain up for Swing in a minnit. Hear's menna a 
dozen villidges e Yorksher whear they'r watchin 
ivvera neet for Swing, an thear's been menna a 
thahsand constables sworn in t'last four or foive 
week. Bur o can tell thee, Jerra, wot we want e 
this tahn ; we want n plenta wark, an plenta a brass 
fort when it's dun ; an then we cud have spoice 
cake an ale (not Tom an Jerra) an a good fat pig at 
Crissmas, as it yus't to be, an then we'd sing, Rule 
Britanya till we strein'd us wrist. 

Samma — daht we mun ne'er see them toimes 
ageean. 

Jerra — Have a good heart, mun ; thah kno's 
we'n a Politticle Union e She wild nah; it al ge 
things a glorious twist afooar long, moind if it 
dus'nt ; it kno's all abaht poUaticks throo won end 
tot tuther. 

An old man from Bradfield {guite alarmed) 
— A, wot sooart an a thing is it, Jerra ? has it been 
seen afooar? 

Jack —Not offens ; its not long sin it wer dis- 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT 33 

cover 'd ; bur its a varry grate animal, its menni a 
hundred hois, an menni e hundred ears, an menni 
a hundred mahths, an menni a hundred teeth, an 
it can swell it bodda ta ommast onna seize ; it 
nivver sleeps, it hois is awlis oppen ta see all 
they dun, an it eai's is awlis oppen to hear all they 
sen ; an if it sees things dus'nt gooa reit, in oppens 
menna a hundred mahths, an gees em warnin ; 
bur if they tain na nooatice wot it says, it swells 
it bodda to sich a soise, sets his brissels up skoi 
hoi, nocks his teeth together, stamps his menni 
a hundred feet uppat grahnd, shooits flashes a foir 
aht an his een, wokes slo, bur stedda, an freetens 
all his enemies into — roighteousness. 

Old Man [trembling)— A, o hooap it al ne'er 
come to Bradfield. 

Luke Threesquare — Gentlemen, o move at 
Jerra Flatback gees us a song. 

JooA Slttspring — 01 seckond that mooason ; 
cum, Jerra, lad. 

Jerra — Wa, ol doo me best, an't king can doo 
no mooar. 



Cum all yo cutlin heroes, where'ersome'er yo be, 
All yo wot works at flat-backs, cum lissen unto me ; 

A baskitful for a shillin, 

To mak em we are willin, 
Or swap em for red berrins, abr bellies tubbe fillin, 
Or swap em for red herrins, abr bellies tubbe fillii!. 

A baskitful o' flat-backs o'm sbure we'l mak, or mooar, 
To ger reit into't gallara, whear we can rant an rooar. 

Thro' flat-backs, stooans, an sticks ; 

Red herrins, booans, an bricks ; 
If they dooant play Nansa's fansa, or onna tune we fix, 
We'l do the best at e'er we can to braik sum ore ther necks. 



34 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Hey, Jont, lad, is that thee, where are ta waddlie too ? 
Dusta work at flat-backs yit, as thahs been used to do ? 

Hah, cum and tha's gooa wimma. 

An a sample o will gi'tha ; 
It's won at oVe just fooaged uppa Jeffra's bran new stidda ; 
Look at it well, it duz excel all't flat-backs e ahr smitha. 

Let's send for a pitcher a' ale, lad, for o'm genin varra droi ; 
O'm ommast chooakt we smitha sleek, the wind it is so hoi. 

Ge Kafe and Jer a drop, 

They sen they cannot stop. 
They're e sich a moita hurra to get to't penny hop. 
They're e sich a moita hurra to get to't penny hop. 

Here's Steeam at lives at Heela, he'l soon be here, o kno. 
He's larnt a new Makkarona step, the best yo iwer saw ; 

He has it sooa compleat, 

He troies up iwera street. 
An ommast braiks all't payors we swattin dahn his feet. 
An Anak troies to beat him whenivver they dun meet. 

We'l raise a tail be Sunda, Steeam ; o kno whoa's won to sell; 
We'l tee a hammer heead at end, to mak it balance well. 

It's a reit new Lunnon tail ; 

We'l ware it kail for kail; 
Ahr Anak browt it we him, that neet he cum bi't mail. 
We'l drink success unto it — hey ! Jont, lad, teem aht t'ale. 

JooA Slitspetng — Sup, Jerra i heah's nobbada 
can sing that song loik thee yit. 

Luke Threesquare — [Takes up a glass of ale.) 
Heah's the health, Jooa, an wishin thah ma awlis 
ger plenty o wark at Corbo's. 

Guide — Jerra, what sooat ana bull week had ta ? 

Jerra — Whuy, mun, o did pratta weel while 
Crismas E'em it monin, an then o'd varra bad 
luck. Thah kno's o thowt o'd ger up at won 
o'clock, an gooa tumme wark. Sooa ahr oud lass 
wakken'd ma, an o thowt itw^or late, sooa o jumpt 
aht a bed in a hurra, an set off to't shop as hard 
as iwer o cud gooa ; and as me oud gronfather 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 35 

yused to say, misfortins is nivver to seek, o hadnt 
gon far befooar o run reit on to a bag a soot at sum 
sweeps liad just rear'd up. At first o thowt it wor 
a watchman asleep, sooa o tbow^t o'd ge him a grip, 
an squeezed him as hard as ivver o cud ; bur 
when webooath w^ent dahn, hebrust, an marcy on 
me, o'st ne'er forget it, o wor up tot elbers e soot, 
an me mahth an een worchok full. Wa, thowt o, mo 
bull week's spoild at onna rate ; o shall be loik to 
sahwer sum. awer, we a bit a trubble o 
scrambled tot shop, and as sooin as ivver o lifted 
trap dooar up an sho'd me soota face, they cut e 
all direkshons ; sum went aht at winda, an teld 
em towd lad wor it shop ; won tumbled ore't stooil 
head furst intot assnook ; anuther shahted, ' Dooant 
tak me, mester, an o'l nivver blend Jerra's springs 
no mooar.' Bur at last o perswaded em at hah it 
wor me, an rare an pleased they wor. 

Guide — Sooat yung rascald begun a confessin 
his sins, when he thowt he wor bahn tubbe tane, 
did he ? 

Luke Threesquare — Thah mays me think at 
Heela Jointer. He wor cummin to't shop abaht 
hofe past won a Crismas E em it monin, w^e a 
point a milk in a pitcher, for his brekfast, e won 
han, an sum looaf it tuther ; and as he wor tumint 
comer, summat nockt pitcher aht on his hand. 
* Wot's that for,' says he, an up we his fist ; when 
all in a minnit, a jackass set up sich a rote, at 
made ivvera hair on his heead stan streit, an away 
lie ran, reit acrosst street, up to't knees in a looad 
muck, an thear he stuck, an whoilt jackass roted, 
he shahted ; bur o awer, we a bit a sprottlin, he 



36 THE SHEFFIELE DIALECT. 

ger aht. But thah moinds he wor scented aboon 
a bit. 

Jack — O reckon yo heeard hah Bob Beanhead 
diddelt squinting lawyer tlast week, at Owlaton 
seshons. 

Jerea — Na, ne'er heeard nowt abaht it : hah 
wor it ? 

Jack — Whoy thah kno's, he wor called in for a 
witness, an't oud squintin lawyer thowt he'd run 
his rigs on him, becos he cum throo Wadsley ; bur 
Bob sho'd him hah it wor dun T 'lawyer thowt a 
o'erfacin him we axin him questions. [It must 
he observed that the lawyer s name was Mr, J. 
Catch.'] 

Lawyer Well, my man, what do you know 
about this affair. 

Cutler — Hah, o kno a bit abaht it. 

Lawyer — Come, then, tell us what you know. 

Cutler — Wa, shoo call'd him a varra fahl 
name. 

Lawyer, (Mimics) — O, shoo call'd him a 
fahl name, did shoo ? (Turns his head to look 
at the cutler) How long is it since you was at 
Wakefield ? 

Cutler — O cahnt tell exactla, bur o kno yo 
an me wor there together. 

Lawyer — Well, well ; but what did you hear 
the woman say ? 

Cutler — Wa, o'l ashooar ya, ahr Sal an me's 
been marrid this twenta years, an shoo nivver call'd 
me hofe sich a fahl name yit. 

Lawyer — Well, I have nothing to do with your 
Sal ; but come now, tell us what a * fahl name' is. 



IHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 37 

Cutler — Wa, thear's a mennj falil names it 
world; but hears sum fabler nort tuther ; bur o 
thinkt fahlest name e alltworldis 'Jack Catch.' — 
[Loud laughter. 

Lawyer — {colouri7ig)—Well, but what did you 
hear the woman say ? 

Cutler — Wa, o'd tell ya, bur o'm afeard yo'd 
be mad. 

Lawyer — [Out of patience) — ^You clown, why 
do'nt you speak out what you heard ? 

Cutler — Wa, will ya be mad ? It wer a fahl 
name yore sartin. (Laivyer appeals to the Judge.) 

Judge — Well, my good man, you must tell the 
learned gentleman what you heard the woman say. 

Cutler — (Bows to the Judge) — Yes, sur, ol 
tell him ; nobbut o'm afeard he'l be mad. (Looks 
the Lawyer in the face.) Will ya be mad, sur. 

Lawyer — (Li a rage) — Speak out, novice ! 

Cutler — Then yo weeant be mad, will ya ? — 
Yore shure yo weeant be mad ? Wa, shoo call'd 
him a squintin fooil. (Uproarious laughter through 
out the court.) 

Samma Squarejoint — Hearts luck, lad; wishin 
thah ma nivver work at flatbacks. 

Jerra — Ahr oud lass has been readin it e sum 
paper, at hah thear's been a varra shockin accident 
tain place it East Indies. 

Guide — An wot is it, Jerra ? 

Jerra — Whoy, shoo sez at hah't north powl's 
brokken, an at hah they're bahn to send all't oud 
pensioners to mend it. It's suppooas'd at hah 
Captin Parry's ship, wot went aht uppa discoveries, 
run ageean it won neet it dark ; but they sen it 
c 



^8 THE SHEFFIEI.D BIALEOT. 

■wor crackt, an that's reason it's been sich weather 
abaht nah. 

Jack — Pretha, Jerra, hah can't north powl be 
it' East Indies ? Yore oud lass can see dubble, 
cahnt shoo ? Dustah kno what sooat on a thing't 
north powl is, Jerra ? 

Jerra —Hah sloik e doo. Its't gudgen end o't 
world axeltree, w^ot sticks aht. 

At this moment there was a general move. The 
company broke up, and my guide conducted me to 
my lodgings. 



39 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



CONVERSATION III. 

Jack— {Enters and finds them sitting round 
the fire.) Wotst wheel lame, or is ther nobbut a 
collar ? 

Bill — Na, lad, t'mane bands brokken, an toud 
cobbler cabnt be fun. They sen he's a freeman o 
Lincon, an's gon to ge bis vooat, to help to mak a 
nashonal band, as't system may work better. — 
Wots that thah's gotten mider the arm, Jooa ? 

JooA — Whoy its 't Mirror, o've browt it to let 
thee look at a queer soign ats in it. Its't rummist 
at ivver o seed : it wor coppid throu a booard ore't 
dooar a John Grove, a Whoite Waltham, Berks. 
01 reed it thee, mun e ? 

BiL — Hah, tubbe shooar, lets have it. 

Jooa — {reading?) 

John Grove, grocer, and dealer in coffee and tea, 

Sells the finest Congo's, and the best bohea ; 

A dealer in coppice, a measurer of land ; 

Sells the finest of snuff's, and the finest white sand 

A singer of psalms, and a scriv'ner of money, 

CoUects the land tax, and sells virgin honey; 



40 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

A ragman, a carrier, a baker of bread, 

And a clerk to the living as well as the dead ; 

Vestry clerk, petty constable, sells scissors and knives, 

Best Virginia and buckles — collects the small tithes; 

Is a treasurer of clubs, and a maker of wills ; 

He surveys men's estates, and vends Anderson's pills. 

Woollen draper and hosier, sells all sorts of shoes, 

V/ith the best earthenware — also takes in the news ; 

Deals in hurdles and eggs, sells the best of smallbeer, 

The finest sea coals, and's elected o'erseer. 

Deputy surveyor — sells fine writing paper, 

Has a vote for the county, and linen draper ; 

A dealer in cheese and the best Hampshire bacon; 

Plays the fiddle divinely, if I'm not mistaken. 

Nah oud lad it's a topper, issent it ? 

Jack — Wa, it sartanla is a comical soign, but if 
tliahs a moind, o'l bet tbee an odd jill, at ol mak 
won e ten minnits as rum as that is, an it shall be 
desoided bit cumpana. 

JooA. — Well oil Stan it. (Jack Wheelswarf 
retires.) 

JoHNY Elstn — Well, Jooa, o think thah'l win, 
for ne'er seed sitch a soign e me life, — its so full a 
contrara things ; nobbut think at difference between 
snuff and whoite sand, woollen draper and ragman,, 
dealer e cheese and small beer. If Jack beats 
this, o'st think he's jannok o avver. 

BiLLA FoRKDUST — kno Jack's a rum stick, 
but think he'l be buck'd this toime : o neer seed 
sitch opposites in a soign nowhere, an o've been e 
mooast parts at cuntra at won toime or anuther. — 
He's nobbut two minnits too — Hear he cums, o'm 
shure. Thah't just e toime, oud lad. 

Jack — Well, hear it is. 

" Johny Queer, lives hear, boi's oud rags an sells 
•new uns, taiches music be steeam, linen draper an 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 41 

dealer e horse slioos, muck marcliant an parish 
dark, pig killer and bellman, and dealer e muffins 
an muk- forks, honey an soot, red herrins an rasins, 
spades and peppermint, blackin and bacon, fiddle 
strings an flahwer, troips an trip sticks, barm an 
sand, pahder an cabbage, beesoms an flannel neet 
caps, teeth pahder an fish books, pickl'd cabbage 
an dubben, parrasols an pistils, bears greease an 
hob nails, pinder an man midwife, an dealer e all 
sooarts a hardware but trade." — {Here was a regu- 
lar laugh, and it was agreed that Jack had icon 
the wager) 

Jim FLI^T — wer bahn to ax ift treform bill 
passed wooa we mut send throo Shevvild. 

BiLLA — its full soon to spekilate uppa that 
yit. Jooa, read us that letter tot Horticultural 
Society. 

JooA Crocus, [reads the letter) — " My wif had 
a tom cat that dyd, being a torture shell and a^ 
grate favourit ; we had him berrid in the guardian, 
and for the sake of enrichment of the mould, I had 
the cark's deposited under the roots of a gooseberry 
bush ; the frute being up till then of a smooth 
kind, but the next seasons was all hairy; and 
more remarkable, the catpillars of the same bush 
was all of the same hairy description," 

JoHNY Elsin — That's a corker, oud lad, — 
Billa, tell us abaht toud bare. 

Bill A Forkdust — Yo seen this singilar thing 
taid place when we wor abrooad, and o shall ni wer 
forget it whoile ove a day to live ; we'd been 
follerin tennama into a wood ommast all't day, an 
we'd gotten so far in at we cud'nt foind trooad 



42 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

aht agean, an we wandered an wandered backard 
and forrad, and sum went won rooad, an won went 
anuther, till it began to be darkish ; sooa o begun 
o thinkin where o mut lig all't neet, tubbe abt at 
gate at woild craturs, an at last o seed an oud hollo 
tree, we a track reit up soid on't ; sooa we a bit a 
trubble o ger up tot top, an sum hah me feet slipt 
throo under me, an o fell dahnt insoid, reit tot 
bottom ; bur o moi stars, when o get tot bottom, an 
fun mesen in a bares nest we three yung uns in, o 
rala thowt o cud nt live anuther midnit, fo'rt hoil 
wor so woid, o cud'nt ger up agean. Heah's 
nobbada can gess wot mo feelins wor then, for o 
expected nowt else bur o shud mak a good supper 
fort oud bare when shoo cum, an't thowts a havin 
me blud sukt, an me booans crash 't between 't jaws 
of a monstrous bare, freezed me varra blud an 
paralois'd ivvera limb. Bur o bethowt mesen at 
oud bare ad cum dahn wit rump furst, an o thowt 
if cud but scare her a sum hah, shoo'd happen run 
up agean, an whoil o wor thinkin dahn shoo cums, 
an laid fast oud on her tail we booath me hands, 
an squeez'd as hard as ivver o cud ; an as soon as 
t'oud lass felt summada ad oud on her tale, up shoo 
went, an rarely o laft, for it wor sich a conveyance 
as o'd neer travel 'd by befooar ; bur, o avver, when 
we get tot top, geed her a extra shove, an shoo 
tumbled tot bottom, an brake her neck an o wor 
not a bit pleased, yore shooar. Bur o avver o left 
me lodgins wethaht payin owt ; an as luck ad hav 
it gat tot regiment same neet — wornt it queer? 
BiL — Hello ! bear's Jem cummin. Wot, has 
ta been e bed whoil nah ? 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 4B 

Jem Quilback — Hah, o wer up late tlast neet, 
an o'd loiken'd to getten sliot anole. 

JoHNY Elsin — Thad had ? Whoy, hah did ta 
mannidge that? Did summada troy to rob thee? 

Jem — Nou, it ad put em ahaht to rob me ; o 
shud loik to catch em robbin me when o have nowt. 
went to seet lass, thah sees, an't oud lawyer 
heeard us tokin under twinder ; sooa he ger aht a 
bed, an we heeard him cummin tut winder. Away 
tlass ran in tot brewass, an o squeezed mesen cloice 
undert winder ast oud chap cud'nt see me, an held 
t'mop just o'er me heead. *' Whooa's thear," he 
grumbled, hofe asleep an hofe wakken, ** if ya 
dooant spaik, o'l foir ; o'l blow yer heead off, if ya 
dooant spaik. Whooa's thear? wonce — whooa's 
thear? — twoice ; o nivver miss me aim ; yo'd bet- 
ter spaik — (o just turn'd t' mop rahnd, an't oud 
chap made his sen shure he seed me) — whooa's 
thear? three toims," — an then he let floi, an as 
sooin as he shot, o let t'mop fall. Intot chamber 
he runs to woif. "A, mo lass, o've shot a man, 
Ve shot a man ; prethe leet a candle, an gooan 
look ; seed him fall." Away gooast ond dame 
intot fow^d, to look fort deead man, an't lawyer tot 
winder. '* Dusta see owt, luv ? " " Nowt but t'mop 
blone e pieces," sez shoo. " Curse the fello," sez 
he, *' o'l turn Sal away directla," an haht he bundled 
her, neck an heels ; sooa thah sees o wer fooast to 
bring her to ahr hahce, at it made it late afooar o 
get to bed. But toud chap ad anuther gooa t'same 
neet. He had'nt been e bed long afoar he wer 
wakken'd we hearint dooar creak, just as if it wer 
bahn to brust oppen. Aht a bed he jumps, lays 



44 THE SHEFflELD DIALECT. 

oud on a rusta dagger, dahn stairs lie gooas varra 
softla. " o'l sarve em alit this toime," sez he to his 
sen, when t'dooar geed anuther crack, — he gooas 
acres t flooar on his tippy tooas, puts his oud dagger 
tot latch hoil, geed it a reglar thrust, — but moi 
hoies, t'dooar floid oppen loikleetnin, an sent toud 
lad we his heead in tot asnook, an thear he laid 
hellorin aht, " Tak me munny an spare me loif." 
An laffable to tell, t' theif proved to be nobbada 
bur his awn oud mare, at had been rubbin her 
hinder parts ageean't dooar, an when shoo felt 
dagger prick her, shoo up we her heels, an sent 
booath dooar and her mester too a respectable 
distance. 

Jack — sa Jooa, these knoives a Eodgers' is 
proime ans, arnt they ? 

Jooa — Hah, heahs non to beat em, theyrt best 
putten together of onna it tahn o beleeve. say, 
Jack, can thah begin an tell me ivvera thing ats 
dun at a pen knoife throot furst tot last. 

Jack — ISI ow o cahnt, nor thee nother, o'm shooar. 

Jooa — Cum, o'st stan an odd glass o Crossland's 
threepenny at o doo, an thah kno's itst best stuff 
in tahn. 

Jack — Webber whooas tubbit judge ? 

JooA — Whoy, see the, heahs Jooa Slitspringjust 
cummin in, he mun; thaht shooar hel foind me 
aht if dont tell thee reit. 

Jack — Cum then, start the man. 

JooA — Wa then o'st begin wit blade makker 
furst : — 

J St. He mood'st blade, 

2nd. Then he tangs it. 



iHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 45 

8rd. Then h# smithies it. 

4th. Then he hardens an tempers it, an he's 
dun we't. — Wa then heast spring makker : — 

1st. He moods it 

2nd. Then he draws tuther end aht an turns 
it, an's just as menna he'ats fort scale ; wa then't 
blade gooas tot wheel tubbe grun an sich loik. 

1st. Nah, thah kno's, we awlis groind tang 
furst, fort mark to be strucken, bur ivvera bodda 
dus'nt. 

2nd. Then groindt blade. 

3rd. If its a rahnd ended knoife, tangs is glazed 
an pollisht. 

4th. Then they'r choil'd if they r not fether 
edged uns. 

5th Then they'r grun uppat droi stooan. 

6th. Swages is glazed, an t' backs, if they"r tubbe 
pollisht. 

7th. Wa then they'r lapt. 

8th An then pollisht, an he's dun we't. — Then 
heast cutler's wark al bit warst, bur o think o can 
mannidge : — ■ 

1st. He sets scales tot plate. 

2nd. Bores t'scales. 

3rd. Foiles an fits em. 

4th. Nocks em aht an marks springs. 

5th. Rahnds springs, an hardens and tempers 
em. 

6th. Then he rasps and sets his cuverin. 
7th. Then he matches an pins em on 
8th. Tak's em dahn an dresses t'edges. 
9th. Nocks em aht an scrapes t'edges at iron 
scales. 



€2 



46 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT*. 

lOth. Puts springs intot hefts* 

11th. Squar'st blades an dresses em. 

12th. Nails em in joints an sets em. 
. 13th. If they'r stag they want heftin. 

14th. Foils 't bowsters. 

15th. Ruff buffs t' hefts. 

16th. Ruff glazes't bowsters. 

3 7th. Then woips sand off. 

18th. Foine buffs em we oil an rottenston. 

19th. Foine glazes't bowsters. 

20th. Then glosses em off^ an they'r finisht, 
arnt they Jooa ? 

JooA — Nou, lad, not sooa, thah's mist two things 
Thah'l loize if tadus'nt moind. 

Jooa Crocus — ^Wa o can think o nowt else. 
Wot have e mist, eh ? 

Jooa — ^Dus'n thah kno at after 't springs is 
hardened an temper 'd, they'r glaz'd an burnisht ; 
an at after he matches an pins em on, he 
nips em an bores 't thick horn hoils, an puts points 
in. 

Jooa Ceocus — ^Wa man, o did'nt owt to loise 
for that bit ; bur, o avver, let's just reckon hah 
menna toimes won part or anuther on em gooas 
throo us hands. 

JooA — Wa, then, we'll begin wit blade makker 
furst : — 

Blade Makker toimes 4 

Scale an Spring Makker ... toimes 4 

Groinder toimes 8 

Cutler or Setter in; toimes 22 

Total 58 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 4T 

Besoides a menna mooar little jobs, sitch as wettin 
an woipin, &c. 

Jack Emmera— Bill, liasta been tot Crovs 
wheel latela ? 

Btl — Nou, tliink oVe ne'er been sin they 
throde tweelswarf uppa oud Em-r-n. Wot made 
thee ax ? 

Jack — -Becos o'd a chap at ahr hahee tuther 
neet at sed they'd begun a drawin teeth be steam 
—hasta heeard nowt ? 

BiL-^Not a whisper. Dusta kno hah they dun ^ 

Jack — Whoy't chap tees a peece of band rahnd 
his tooth, and then fassens tather end tot wheel- 
band, thro'st band on tot drum, and away it gooas ; 
an ift string ouds fast tot tooth, o'ther his beead 
or his tooth gooas we it. 

Billa — O reckon thaht shooar we'st believe 
thee ? 

Jack — Wa, yo can pleeas yer sens ; but chap 
at teld me, seed him do it. say, Jerra, dus ta 
kno hah long it is sin ther wer a conjunkshon e 
this part ? 

Jerra — Not marra, o kno'd nowt abaht him : 
there wer wonce a chap at they call 'd Ben Jenkisson, 
at lived at Mahce Hoil Fooage, but that's twenty 
year sin. 

Jack — It is no use tokin to Jerra ; Bil, duz 
thah kno. 

Bil— Hah, o doo, an rarela o laft when o seect 
it, ol ashooar thee. 

Jack — Whoy, o cahnt see wot ther is to laff at 
e looking at a conjunkshon. Hah long is it sin, 
prethe ? 



48 $HE SHEiFilELD tJIALECTi 

BiL. — Wa, ne er moind, thah'd a laft anole if 
tad oima laffin in thee. 

JACK--Whear wor ta when ta seed it ? 

BiL — Whoy, wer gooin up Chetch lane. 

Jack- Wot o'clock wor it ? 

BiL — Abaht hofe-past alevven it forenoon. 

Jack — Wa, thah art nobbada hardla, to toke 
abaht seein a conjunkshon be day leet ; pre the 
dooant tell nobbada that tale no mooar. 

BiL — Webber o did, an o can foind thee hofe a 
dozen mooar at wer starin at it at same toime. 

Jack — An prethe wot plannits wor they ? 

BiL — Mars an Venus. 

Jack — Hah long is it sin ? 

BiL — Abaht a fortnit; it wer that same day as 
we kild ahr pig. 

jACKHeThaht a monstrous gret loiar> Bill, bur 
it's no use sayin no mooar abaht it. 

BiL — Thaht short a faith. Jack, but o avver, o'l 
tell thee hah it wor an then thahl be satisfoid at 
its possable to see a conjunkshon be day leet. Wa, 
thah sees, hear wer won at barrack officers rannin 
as hard as he cud, ont Brinsed Orchard street, an 
at same time a foine young lady wer runnin upt 
Chetch la'ie» an they booath met at corner toge- 
ther, we sitch a colsh, at he carried her hofe ont 
street befooar he cud stop his sen ; an if that wornt 
a conjunkshon, o ne'er seed won. 

Jack — 01 ge in to thee, Bil ; thaht rayther to 
menny for me this toime. 

Jack Emmera — Wot, is ther onna news nah ? 

Bil — Whoy, bear's Bell's Loif hear, bur o think 
heat's nowt but dog feitin, an man feitin, an bettin. 



tTHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 49 

an challengin ; bur o suppooast Comant sez at hah 
Nicholas wants to doo just as he loiks we us an 
France. 

Jack — 01 tell thee wot, Billa, o ne'er loik to 
read Bell's Loif, o dooant loik it; it'st biggist 
blackguard paper at cums aht a Lunhon. O meean 
to say at sich papers as that does mooar towards 
dtmorraloizin prentis lads e England, nor all't 
athisticle gabble at ivvev wer publisht; he'st advo- 
cate a that mooast inlmman system, at gooas bit 
foine smooth name a self-defence,— alias, man-man- 
gling. A chap's lookt on as nobbada e their hoi, 
withaht he's qualified to nock his nabor's een up 
whenivver he fansa's his sen offended. A man 
battle, a dog battle, or a cock battle cahnt tak 
place nowhear, but they'r publisht e their durta 
collums, an surkillated all o'er England, to harden 
an blunt feelins at roisin generashon. Men wer 
made social beins, an o suppooaz accooardin to 
Bell's nooation a this verta, it consist e braikin 
won anuther's ribs an jaws, crackhi ther skulls, an 
iiockin ther een up, &c. ; varra foine indeed, Mes- 
ter Bell's Loif! But he dus'nt stop here; bein 
sunk tot lowest pitch o depravata, he's ne'er better 
pleeased nor when he's feastin his hoies uppat man- 
gled limbs on his awn dog wot's been torn to pieces 
o'ther to gratifoi his fiendish passions, or to win for 
him a beggerla troifie a munna; an these ist lessins 
a morallata at Bell's Loif's taichin throot countra. 

BiL — Well dun. Jack, thah's oppend on him at 
last, an if yer all in a moind, we'l tak it in na 
mooar. 

JooA— Wa thah mun mak a mooation ont, an 



50 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECfw 

then have it put, for o m no frend to boxin nor 
dog-feitin nb'ther. 

BiL — Gentlemen, o wish to move at we dooant 
tak Bell's Loif in onna mooar. 

JooA — seckand that mooation. 

Jack— Gentlemen, it's been moved be Bil 
Heftpoip, an seckanded be Jooa Slitspring, 
at we discontinna takin Bell's Loif in ; them 
gentlemen wot thinks at Bell's Loif's not a fit 
paper to cum whear thear's prentis lads, on accahnt 
of its demorraloizin tendency, al signifoi't same be 

houdin upt reit hand -contrary opinion — non, 

non, non. Yunanimous. 

Jooa — say, Sam, hah long is it sin thah wor 
lock't up airt neet e York minster ? 

Sam Spendall— 0, it must be sev'nteen year 
sin. 

Jim Flint — Wot wor thah ivver lock't up e 
York Minster all't neet ? did'nt ta see na ghosts 
an sitch loik, — hah did it happen, Sam ? 

Sam — Whoy thah see's it wor when we wor 
quarter 'd there, an sooa won Sunday neei o went 
tot fore o'clock prayers, an gers intot organ gallarra 
an fell fast asleep, an they all went away an lockt 
me in, an o nivver wakkened whoil abaht twelve at 
neet, when o fun mesen ommast stifFen'd we cowd ; 
(for it wor Crismas) ; wot to doo o cud'nttell, for 
it wor so dark at o cud'nt a seen a ghost if ther d 
been onna O avver o woke't abaht an clapt me 
hands to me soides, til at last o heeard J erra 
cummin to ring't six o'clock bell, an o kno'd he'd 
be fooast to cum throo't organ gallara ; sooa up't 
steps he cums an unlockst dooar, an just when he 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 5i 

wor cummin in, o says to him, '^ A Jerra, om glad 
thah't cum": — but my stars ! he smasht lantern 
uppat flooar, an ommast flew dahnt steps ; aht at 
minster he run. — " Wotst matter, Jerra, wotst 
matter ?" sed a man at seed him runnin so fast: 

" the d Is it minster," says Jerra ; sooa o went 

to Jerra's hahce to per s wade him at it wor me ; out 
not sooa, ther wor nooa gerrin Jerra intot minster 
that monin. 

JooA — See thee. Jack, whooas this foine man ats 
cumin ? 

Jack — O kno'nt lad ; bur he's non cumin to see 
us. 

JooA — ^Yabber, he is ; he's just turn'd corner, 
[Enter a Gentleman). 

Gent. — Well Jack, I have just been looking at 
your observations"^ upon the eloquent speech de- 
livered by Mr. Palfreyman, in Paradise^square. 

Jack — Yo han ! an wot dun yo think abaht 
em, eh ? 

Gent. — Why, I think if you had only clothed 
your ideas in better language, they would have 
made a deeper impression on the public mind. 

Jack — Hah, bur o ha'nt had t'larnin as yo han ; 
bur, mun, o kno wots wot— an for all o'm a groin der 
o'm not so soft as e look. 

Gent. — Well, well. Jack, I don't think you are 
a fool ; yet it is my opinion that some parts of your 
letter borders rather too much upon the marvellous. 

Jack — Hah, an wot part's that, eh ? 

* See the letter addressed to the Editor of the Sheffield 
Courant, entitled "AGroinder's Opinion," &c., on a succeeding 
page. 



62 THE SIlEFt"iELD BTALECT. 

Gent. — I refer to those parts relative to that 
new fangled system called Phrenology. 

Jack — Oh, oh, then yore not a frenollogist, o 
see. 

Gent. — No, no ; I detest such infidel systems — 
they lead to nothing but downwright atheism. 

Jack — Houd, houd, sur; dooant be in a pashon ; 
let abodda spaik. O wonce wer as much ageean 
it as yo wor ; but o axed a chap a question abaht it 
an he sed at hah o mut look for me sen ; an sooa 
o did, an o fun it all reit. 

Gent.— What ! do you mean to affirm that the 
doctrines of phrenology are founded upon reason ! 

Jack — Hah, o doo ; an o'l lig yo tuppence o 
can ma it aht. 

Gent. — Well, Jack, as I cannot stay long with 
you, I'll propose a question, which I think will 
puzzle the best of you. 

Jack — Cum then ; aht we it. 

Gent. — ^We will suppose a man has the organ 
of theft, and is in practice a thief; but on account 
of a sudden conversion to Christianity, he becomes 
an honest man. In this case, a phrenologist would 
be deceived ; because whenever he finds this oigan 
developed on the cranium he concludes at once the 
man is a thief, or his science is fallacious* 

Jack— O see yore objekshous tot doktrin is 
fahnded uppa yer ignorance. 

Gent — What do y ou mean by that ? Do you 
mean to insult me ? 

Jack — Wa, sur, o meean as o say, becos there's 
nother t organ a theft nor murder, e frenollogy. 

Gent. — Why, it is the current opinion that there 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT 58 

is an organ of theft, and that the subject cannot be 
otherwise than a thief. 

Jack — O it*st current oppinnion, is it ? An sooa 
yore a gentleman a larnin, an yo thinkn at hah't 
doktrin a frenollogy's belt uppa t'rottan fahndashon 
a public oppinion, eh ? Yore a rattler, o avver. 
Yo mun look for yer sen as o did, 

Gent. — Well, Jack, you are very bold; but you 
will not deny that in this science there is the organ 
of music, and that every one possessing it must, of 
course, be a musician. 

Jack — Wot ! dun yo meean at hah he ma sing 
withaht a voice, an fiddle withaht larnin ? It 
dus'nt taieh sooa ; bur it taiches at if a chap's 
gettii t organ o music an t'organ a perseverance,s 
he ma, we applikashon, mak a musishon. 

Gent. — Well, Jack, I see no wonderful utility 
in that discovery. 

Jack— Yo dooant ! Wa, o think yo hant 
gettn t'organ o disarnment then. Nah, suppooas 
at yo wor a frenolleger, an yo'd a child, — a lad 
we'll say, — an yo discover t'organ of distruktivness, 
an t'organ of akquissitivness uppa his skull, yo mut 
trane him up e babbits which is opposit to them two 
things, an he'll stan a better chonce a beein booath 
honnest an kgind nor all tlarnin at caddemies ad 
mak him. 

Gent. — Well, Jack, you astonish me. T begin 
to think there is more reason in this science than I 
was aware of. But I heard that Dr. Spurzheim 
said that Christianity should be scouted out of the 
w^orld ; and so I thought his system bordered upon 
atheism. 



54 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECt. 

Jack — Wa, if he did say sooa, o think he'd getn 
t'organ a madness; for o'l venter, we frenollogy 
a me soid, to tak onna athisticle wark at wer ivver 
scroled, an, we won single strooak, dash it to hat- 
toms. 

Gent. — Well, Jack, if you do that, I think you 
will convert me. 

Jack — Wa, o m sartan o can, 

Gent. — Well, Jack, be as concise as possible, 
for I am ahnost suffocated with dust. 

Jack — Hah, its not loik bein e yore parlor ; bur 
ol sooin doo it. Nah, you knone at hah't athisses 
sen at torganoization at brane is enuff to produce 
thowt ; but frenollogcrs sez at hah*t brane is nobbut 
torgan at moind maks itsen knone we ; an sooa yo 
ma see at a strooak at hah frenollogy geest deeath 
blow to athism. 

Gent. — Well, I must be honest ; I cannot un- 
swer to these things. But I cannot stay, the dust 
is so oppressive. Farewell, Jack ; and 1 shall be 
glad to see you at my house. 

Jack — Farewell, sur. 

Jog A Crocus — Oud chap, he cums up we nowt 
hardla ; but thah's gen him a corker, o avver. 

Jack— Hah, an o cud o gen him mooar if he'd 
stopt. Thah sees, we all his larnin be knode nowt 
abaht it. 

Jo DA Crocus — Is he cummin to ahr wheel 
ageean. Jack ? 

Jack — Nou, o'm to gooa to their hahce. 

JooA Crocus Thah art ? Moi hoi, oud lad, 
thahl be reit enuiFthear — they n a rare tap. 

Jack O think e me heart, Jooa, thah's getn*t 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 55 

organ a guzzlin ; for tliaht awlis ravin after swill. 
Pretha oud the noise, an ger on we the wark. But 
whooa s this wot's cummin ? 

BiL — Whoy, its Figaro.* 

Jack — Good mornin, mester Fig; hah dun ya 
doo ? 

Figaro — Quite well. Jack: I have jast heen 
delighted with a sight of one of the most beautful 
horses that my eyes ever beheld. 

Jack — Yo han ? o wish o had him ; adder say 
it*st same as o seed yesterday, an o whisht it wer 
moine. 

Figaro — It is very wrong to covet other people's 
property. 

Jack — O kno its wrang; but hah can abodda 
help it ? Wot'st cause a sitch a sin, think ya ? 

FiGAao Cause ! why, the sensation of sight, to 

be sure ; for it is plain enough, if yoa had not seen 
it, you would not have coveted it. 

Jack — Good stars, man ! this is anew doctrine. 
Can t' sensation a seet be't cause of a covetous 
principle ? Nah, suppooas o'd nobbat seen it we 
won hoi, shud o be as guilta as if o'd seen it we 
two ? 

Figaro — Most certainly not; and if you had 
shut the other eye, you would not have been guilty 
at all. 

Jack — Then o see clear enuff, at if o mun avoid 
moral evil, o mun be blufted. But suppooas o wer 
to steyl this horse, an be tain up an troid, an fun 

* The name of a low weekly periodical, frequently at war 
with the author, and the notorious vehicle of obscene ribaldry 
and infidelity, long since extinct. 



56 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

giiilta, wud they put me holes aht for beiri't cause 
on me steylin it ? 

Figaro — No, blockhead ! they would hang thee 
by the neck until thou wert dead, dead, dead ! 

Jack — Wa, that's not fair to hang me neck for 
wot me hoies did. But houd a bit. Fig ; o think 
thaht a bit muddled. O begin to think at hah me 
hoies had varra little to do we't, no mooar nor bein*t 
medium throo which me moind perceives, an after 
sitch perception me depraved principle covets; an i 
when this is put into action a chap begins a thievin. 
Sooa its clear enuffat this evil did'nt cum aht a me 
hoies, becos it did'nt exist whoil covetousness created 
it. Thah reeasoning, mester Fig, s just as silly as a 
chap wot ad say at his hoies wert cause a leet, becos 
if he had'nt oppen'd em, he'd ne,er a seen it. 

BiL — Figaro al ge thee sum blackin. 

Jack — Whoy, tubbe shooar he will, becos he 
deeals in nowt else. 

BiL — O say Jack, o heard say at thah's had*t 
impidence to send Carloile a challenge when he 
wor e Shevvild tuther week, is it true ? 

Jack — Hah that shall be true. 

BiL — Wot, then, wud'nt he cum up ? 

Jack — O've nivver heard a word, o cahnt tell 
wots reason. 

BiL — Wot wor't subject ? 

Jack — Whoy here's a copy on it. 

"Mr. Carlile — Sir. — I understand that you 
have challenged any man to discuss any religious 
subject. Now if you will write upon a subject 
which I will propose, 1 hereby challenge you to 
produce a more rational account of the origin of 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 57 

naan than that given in our scriptures, and T will 
either refute it, or publicly confess my inability, 
for I consider that if the scripture doctrine of the 
origin of man can be overturned, the Christian 
scheme must fall. — Yours, &c. A. B." 

BiL- — An so he dar nt meddle, eh ! O fancy 
its rather a puzzling subject for em ; for theyn a 
vast menna oppinions abaht t orrigin a man ; 
won chap says at hah we came be chonce, an 
another says at hah we nivver came at all. Nah 
that chap must be wrang, because we re sure we're 
here. Then anuther chap says at furst woman at 
ivver wor seen wor fun in a forest, hut hah shoo got 
there he cud'nt tell. An o think its varra weel 
Carloile did nt leet on her,becos if shoo*d happened 
to be ill-tempered he'd neer a married her. Get 
em uppa this subject an yo'l soon find a soft place 
e ther nappers. 

J 00 A — Wen been teld be won a these woise 
men at hah nater produced animals, an at hah e 
toime shool mak sum mooar. 

Jerra — Wa, that's true enuff, becos thah kno's 
nater maks magisjots nah, an sich loik. 

JooA — shud think we'st have a fresh plate it 
next creation . 

Jerra — Hah, we'st happen have a set a black 
teeth, anuther mahth sumwhear, an ears wot al 
reych dahu too us shoo heels, an then they'l doo to 
lap us sens in e steead a sheets. 

Jooa — As for black teeth, o shud'nt think much 
abaht that, becos there's a good menny nah wots 
rayther soota ; but for havvin anu her mahth, that's 
aht a all reeason, becos we'n summat to doo to fill 



58 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

this we han ; an as for long ears at ta talks on, o 
shud ne'er loik to run't risk a bein lugg*d fort sake 
a carryin me awn sheets w^imma. 

Jerra — Buro think this a softish speckilation, 
Jooa. 

J 00 A — Just as soft as Carloile's tale ahaht men, 
women, and childer livin it sea, sum we one leg, an 
sum we a tail, &c. 

Jerra- -Whoy is Carloile 't author a sitch stuif 
as that ? 

Jooa — Whooa 't author is, o dooaut kno, bur o 
kno at Dicka publisht it, an suppooased it true. 

Jerra — There's a chap at are shop wot says he 
has'ni a soul. 

Jooa — Hah does he kno ? 

Jerra — Whoy becos he says he's ne'er seen it, 
nor felt it, nor heeard it, nor tasted it, nor smelt it. 

Jooa — ^Wa it ad be ray ther odd if he'd smelt it ; 
but did he ne'er feel his sen think, an will, an judge, 
an sich loik ? (An infidel overhears them, steps 
in, an answers,) 

Infidel — Well then, according to your own 
account there are four out of the five senses against 
you. 

Jerra — ^Webbut, dun yo beleeve it existence a 
pain, when yer tooih akes ? 

iNriDEL Most certainly. 

Jerra — D^d yo ivver see a pain, sur, or heear 
one, or smell one, or taste one ? 

Infidel — No. 

Jerra — Wa then there's fore aht at foive ageean 
yo ; dun ya believe it ? 

Infidel — I am compelled to believe it. 



59 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



TO'T PUBLIC 



Ahr readers are already aware at a gang a 
persons, radical reformers, alias free-thinkers, are 
determinate! y and brutally bent uppat destruction 
of all loyal, religious, and moral feeling, partik- 
kelarly it lower classes o this populous tahn. Nah. 
it's ahr intention to upset this mob — that's ahr 
object; an we'll attain it, even tho' it cost us life 
and fortin. It's pratty weel knone at the Great 
Mogul this faction has lately paid a visit to this 
tahn, and has been sowing the seeds of coiTuption 
in the moinds of the inhabitants. It shall be ahr 
place to root em up. This we will do ! — this we can 
do. An when we'n getn houd on em, we'll scatter 
em to the fury of the whirlwind, that they may be 
hurl'd into eternal oblivion. We mo'nt — nay, we 
cahnt bear to see't roisin generation corrupted ; 
nother can we allow this unnateral gang to go 
unpunished. We shall, therefore, it pages a this 
book, houd up the dogmas of these craturs e ther 



60 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

true colours, an we'll furnish ivvera prentis lad we 
arguments which will enable him to mock even to 
madness, any infidel who maybe soft enufTto enter 
the list with him, for we hesitate not to say, at we 
can tak the principles of infidels from Gibbon an 
Hume,down to that dirty cratur,Carloile, an we won 
single strooak we ahr intellectual m usher, shivver em 
to atoms. One word more, an w'endun. Ahr readers 
will see at once' at hah we n improved a good deal 
in us spelliii sin we last appeared it litterary world, 
Indeed there's no helpin it, for there's so many ways 
an means to obtain knowledge nah-days, at we 
should be considered the most stupid blockheads in 
existence if we did'nt mend anole. O avver, we hope 
ai if ivver we'n occasion to cum before t 'public again, 
we'st be able to show em an unbeatable specimen 
both of grammar an logic. It litterary lower world 
we are already supreme, and we may safely leave 
the middle and higher classes to the care of Mr. 
Smith. 

Yours, respectfully, 

JACK WHEELSWARF. 



CONVERSATION IV. 

Jack Wheelswarf — Well, Bil, has ta seen 
Gemini's reply to ahr Chronicle ? * 

* Gemini, a writer in Figaro, the publication before referred 
to. Our readers should bear in mind that these conversa- 
tions were first published under the title of " The Wheelswarf 
Chronicle," 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 61 

BiL Heftpoip — Ve seen a thing wots nick- 
named a reply. 

Jack — Well, wot thinks ta abaht it ? 

BiL — Whoy, he begins his nominy we a cantin 
sort an a tale abaht labourin under disadvantages 
on their side of the question ; that they dare not 
say all they can for fear of pains and penalties. 

Jack — Wotalarom. Theyn sed all they knew 
long sin. But thah kno's. Bill, this poor thing, 
Gemini, is a creature of necessity, therefore he had 
no choice but to say what he has sed, soft as it is ; 
an thahl ne'er blame him for doing what he cud'nt 
help doing. 

BiL — Oh! oh! Necessity caused him to tell 
loies, did it ? Now, to tell a wilful falsehood is a 
moral evil ; therefore, necessity, in this case, is 
the cause of moral evil, and not sensation. But, 
o avver, if he*s nobbut done what he cud'nt help, 
its no'ther his misfortune nor his fault. When 
he says at gentlemen on their side the question 
labour under disadvantages, he says a necessary 
falsehood, which falsehood we shall necessarily 
prove to be unnecessary. For instance, Carlile 
comes to Sheffield ; takes the Theatre, challenges 
a religious public to discuss religious subjects, 
without the least interruption from the powers that 
be; nay, they have imprudently, and from in- 
terested motives, arrogated to themselves the right 
to insult a Christian community, not only by their 
abominably filthy language, but by exposing in 
their windows the most horrid pictures of things 
which are considered the most sacred ; an then 
this thing cries out,*' It is needless to expatiate on 

D 



62 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT, 

the courage of one man (a Christian, too,) who 
throws down the gauntlet to another whom he 
knows to he fettered," &c. Pray, who threw the 
gauntlet first ? Did not Carlile ? You first gave 
a challenge ; and when you are foiled, as we foiled 
you in our last Chronicle, you hegin to pull a long 
pitiful fiddle face ; " O we dar nt say all we can 
for fear of pains and penalties;" when the fact is, 
the very biggest, and best, and wisest, of all yer 
gang cahnt advance a single argument fit for a dog 
to grin at. 

Jack — Bui hark the Bil, he's just been charg- 
ing Christians with gross perversion of the obvious 
meaning of a sentence; and when we sed we would 
upset that mob, meaning their principles, viz — by 
shewing their absurdity, what sort of trickery does 
this honest infidel resort to ? listen : — *' Now here 
is a specimen of baseness and illibeiality. Here 
is a sample of the mild and tolerant spirit of a 
Christian. He tells you that if he cannot 
accomplish his purpose by fair means he will by 
foul; that when his reasoning fails to attain his 
ends, he will call in the aid of fraud and force." 
Now the above is the construction of a creature of 
necessity — a gentleman infidel '.•••a Latin scholar! 
— Well, well, he'd no choice but to say so; its all 
a case of necessity. 

Bil — O wish o had houd a that rascal Necessity, 
o'd give him sich a drubbin wi mo intellectual 
m usher as should mak him necessarily remember 
it as long as ivver necessity necessitated him to tell 
lies. Religion's in a tottering state, he says ; but 
what state is infidelity in, whilst Carlile dare not 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 63 

accept the challenge of a poor mechanic of Sheffield, 
and has since refused to answer another in Man- 
chester, and one at Bamsley ! 

Jack — Well, then, here's another necessary- 
falsehood palmed upon us. He says that we are 
the mouth -piece of a certain party. But are we ? 
No, we are not now, and never were ; we stand 
single-handed, always have done, and always will 
do. We have seen the time when we have kicked 
five or six of these necessary creatures before us 
with ease, and we rejoice that we are now intellec- 
tually stronger than ever. We remember that 
Voltaire sed he would upset Christianity; but has 
he ? No. If, then, the giant infidels of the 
French Revolution who massacreed two or three 
millions of human beings, could not, how shall the 
pigmy scavengers of our day do it ? 

BiL — Nah then for't reply; in which we find 
every argument in ahr Chronicle evaded. Ommast 
first thing at o seed set me a laughing till me sides 
ached. Gemini says, very seriously, at hah Carlile 
nivver wor a tinker : no, no, not a tinker, nother. 

Jack — Well, well, we*d been teld at hah he 
wor. Wot wor he prethy ? 

BiL — Guess. 

Jack — A cobbler, happen. 

BiL — Nay, guess again. 

Jack... I shahnt : if ta kno's, tell us. 

BiL — Whoy, he says he wor a tinner an brazier. 
(A laugh.) 

Jack— Cum, cum, we womt far ofll^ o avver; 
but o say, Bil, just twig him here; he sez he 
kno's nowt abaht Carlile's moral marriage! another 
! necessary lie, o fancy. 

d2 



64 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

BiL — Wot, not know nowt; cum, this al do ; 
it's to dirty for em; o loik this. But he says 
Carlile's going to explain ; when he knows very 
well he has explained. And what is he going to 
do ? he*s going to publish all the correspondence 
between his infallible self and that immaculate for- 
nicatress. Miss Sharpies, his present moral wife. 
But let's get on to another necessary falsehood, 
Gemini says that we adduced no prool that organi- 
zation was not the cause of sensation. 

Jack— We proved it, and we again assert, that 
mere organization, destitute of action, cannot pos- 
sibly be the primary cause of anything ; nay, a man 
may have ocular demonstration of such a fact, if he 
please. Pray what effects would the organization of 
a steam engine produce without any power ? Every 
one knows that it could produce none. But, says 
Gemini, " take away from us the five senses, which 
are the media of all knowledge, and you would de- 
prive us of our thoughts, or that bone of contention, 
the mind." Now this is what an Irishman would 
call advancing backwards. We are told in the 
above passage, that the five senses are the media of 
all knowledge; and so we said in our last Chronicle; 
and so we say again. And we also say, that that 
which receives knowledge, through such media, is 
the soul, the immaterial, thinking principle : but, 
says Lawrence, " take away from the mind of man, 
the five external senses, and the functions of the 
brain, and what will be left behind ? " The day is 
coming when Mr. Lawrence will know what, says 
a certain writer. " We admit the sympathetic 
connexion (who has ever called it in question ?) 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 65 

between the organ and the immaterial principle ; 
nay, we admit, that every act of the mind involves 
some mechanical act of the brain. Bat we main- 
tain, that what sets the mechanism in motion is 
not, and cannot be matter, because matter is inca- 
pable of spontaneously changing its own state.'* 
So much, then, for the senses, and as for our 
argument on moral evil, it stands untouched, and 
we know that it is beyond the power of any twin, 
or all the infidel twins in existence to overthrow. 

BiL — Well, then, wot's next ? 

Jack- -Why he says at ''all men grant that it 
is utterly impossible for a man to avoid committing 
sin," an then it next page, he says, " Man is a 
creature of necessity." What a contradiction. 
Well, then we'n a quotation throo Mirabeau, 
the first sentence of which is unintelligible : no 
infidel in the world can make common sense of it. 
fr Man's life is a line that nature commands him to 
describe upon the earth." Who can tell what is 
meant by nature commanding men's actions ? And 
then he says at a man "Is good or bad, happy or 
miserable, &c., without his will going for any thing 
in these various states." If, then, a man be a 
, thief, he is a thief without his will. Is he ? It 
sounds rather paradoxical, too. T do believe this 
at when a man's going to be hanged for his thievingj 
his will goes for nowt, for if it went for any thing, 
it would be for him not to be hanged, but Jack 
Ketch won't let it. Now let us suppose the thief 
in a Court of Justice. 

Magistrate — Well, my good man, what was 
;the reason that you committed the crime of which 
you stand accused ? 



B6 THE iSHEFFlELD DIALECT. 

Prisoner... Why, sir, I think it's very unjust 
to bring me here for doing what I couldn't help ; — 
it was all necessity. 

Magistrate — Do you mean to say that you 
were actually starving for want, and that^jherefore, 
you did it only to preserve your life ? 

Prisoner — O no, sir, you quite mistake me. 
The line of my life, sir, is descnbed to me, by 
nature, from which it is impossible for me to 
swerve ; and, sir, it ha])pens that the line which 
nature has described to me is a thieving one. I 
am. Sir, a creature of necessity, and have no choice 
but to act as I have acted.... [jEZ^ere the Magistrate 
retires for a while.'] 

Prisoner. ..Mine's a hard case. 

A Fellow with a long stick — Silence, 
sirrah, here's t'magistrate coming. 

Magistrate — Well, my man, I believe you 
are out of the reach of all law ; for all the laws in 
existence are founded on the principle of free agency. 

Counsellor — Now, my good man, you have 
made such an excellent defence, if you will come to 
my house in the morning, I will make you a present 
of five sovereigns. 

Prisoner — { Touches his hat,j Thank you. 
Sir, I'll take care and go. 

Magistrate — Hollo ! what's that you say ; 
you'l take care and go ; I thought you had been 
a creature of necessity. You said nature had 
described to you a certain line from which you 
could not swerve ; but now you are describing 
a line to nature ; you have, at the sound of five 
pounds, made up your mind to act; and in tho 



THE SHEFFIELD DIAl^CT. 67 

ifidrning, in spite of nature's line, you will go for 
the cash. 

Prisoner* "Yes, Sir, but I shall go from ne- 
cessity. 

Magistrate'" But 1*11 take care you dont. 
Gentlemen of the Jury, bring in your verdict. 
{The Jury retires for a while, and returns a 
verdict of Guilty.) 

Magistrate...! am now under the painful 
necessity of necessarily informing the prisoner at 
the bar, that it is necessary for me to necessitate 
him, necessarily to leave the country. You will 
therefore be necessarily transported beyond the 
seas, there of necessity to stay for the necessary 
term of seven years, and so then there will be an 
end of your necessary thieving. 

BiL...Well, then Gemini refers ageah to 
ahr Chronicle, and says that we sent ahr challenge 
when we knew that Mr. Carloile's stay in Sheffield 
was concluded. Now, we wish the public particularly 
to notice this, because they have made so much ado 
about it, for the fact is Carlile received our challenge 
on the Friday, and he left the town on the Saturday, 
a day sooner than he expected, according to his own 
statement. Bnt why not accept it at any time ? 
He might have written in his own Wash Tub Ga- 
zette, and possibly it might have been more inter- 
esting than the bombastical Tom- Pain e-nonsense, 
for which he makes his dupes pay at present. 
These poor deluded creatures remind me of the 
old woman who went from house to house begging 
ale, and it was all very good : at last they gave the 
old lady some swill j " O, its very good," said 



68 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

she; and so it is with Carloile's admirers. It's no 
matter what kind of unconnected jargon, or however 
monstrously absurd, their cry is, it's all very good. 
A man said, the other day, that Carloile had con- 
firmed him in his opinion, although (said the man) 
I could not understand what he meant by what he said. 
Jack — Now, we have heard very frequently of 
the honesty of these free-thinkers; they say we 
only want the truth, and, especially, we detest the 
man that would either alter or pervert any sentence 
to suit his own purpose ; but what is their practice ? 
We have a very fine sample of their honesty in 
Gemini s quotation from Ecclesiastes: — Solomon 
says, chap. 3rd, verse 21st, " Who knoweth the spirit 
of man that goeth upward?" Gemini makes him say, 
^ Who knoweth the spirit of man that it goeth upward.' 
Solomon continues : " and the spirit of the beast 
that goeth downward to the earth." Gemini con- 
tinues : '' and the spirit of the beast that it goeth 
downward to the earth." Our readers will see that 
the word "i7 " is not in the text; and they will also 
see the baseness of the man who would thus sacri- 
fice his reputation at the shrine of Atheism. The 
despicable wickedness of the attempt stamps infamy 
on the cause it is designed to serve. However, in 
the next place, we have Gemini's account of the 
origin of the New Testament. " A set of priests 
(says he) who called themselves the Council of 
Nice, being in possession of a lot of Jewish fables, 
got up the New Testament, as we have it at the 
present day." Now this wonderful discovery 
of the origin of the New Testament, according 
to Gemini's account, is no origin at all, but 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 69 

merely a compilation of books already written. 
If Gemini or any of his brethren can tell us who 
wrote these books, they may then venture to 
state their origin ; but what he has advanced is 
false. Ftir it can be proved that the Canon 
of Scripture was determined immediately after 
the death of St. John, the last survivor of the 
Apostolic order. The Canon of the Gospels 
was determined, indeed, before his death, for we 
read in Eusebius that he gave his sanction to 
the three other Gospels, and completed this part 
of the New Testament with his own. And by 
the death of .John, the catalogue of Scripture 
was completed and closed. But, it may be asked, 
by whom was the Canon of Scripture determined P 
It was determined — not by the decision of any 
individual, nor by the decree of any council, but 
by the general consent of the whole and every 
part of the Christian Church : it is, indeed, a very 
remarkable circumstance that, among the various 
disputes which so early agitated the Church, the 
Canon of Scripture was never the subject of con- 
troversy. The reason of this agreement is a very 
satisfactory one. Every one who is at all versed 
in Ecclesiastical History, is aware of the continual 
intercourse which took place in the Apostolic 
age, between the various branches of the Church 
universal. This communication arose out of the 
Jewish polity, under which the various synagogues 
*of the Jews, which were dispersed throughout the 
Gentile world, were all subject to the sanhedrim 
at Jerusalem, and maintained a constant corres- 
pondence with it. Whenever, then, an epistle 
D 3 



70 THE SHEFFIELD DIALEOT. 

arrived at any particular church, it was first au- 
thenticate J, it was then read to all the holy 
brethren, and was subsequently transmitted to 
some other neighbouring church. Thus, we 
find that the authentication of the Epistles of St. 
Paul was *^the salutation of his own hand," by 
which the Church, to which the letter was first 
addressed, might be assured that it was not a 
forgery. Had we space allowed we might go 
on to a great length, but we must wind up by 
referring to a few authorities which afford ample 
proof tliat the Testament existed as a whole long 
before the Council of Nice. 

Justin Martyr, A.D. 140, speaks of the memoiis 
of the Apostles (i.e. the Gospels) being read with 
the writings of the prophets every Lord's day. In 
the epistle of Diognetus (of the same date), we 
find the following paragraph : — '^ The fear of the 
law is known, and the grace of the prophets is 
acknowledged; the faith of the gospels is established, 
and the writings of the Apostles are preserved," &c 
Dionysius, of Corinth, A.D. 170, speaks of some 
who had " attempted to corrupt the Scriptures of 
the Lord." Irenaeus, A.D. 178, says, ** that no 
common punishment awaits those who add or take 
from the Scriptures." Theophilus, of Antioch, A.D. 
181, thus expresses himself: *' The writings of the 
prophets and the gospels are in unison, because 
that all being inspired by one and the same Spirit 
of God." Clement, of Alexandria, A.D. 194, says, 
" that the Scriptures in which we have trusted, 
have been confirmed by the Almighty authority." 
TertuUian, in his Apology, A.D. 200, remarks: 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 71 

"Whoever, therefore, you are, who think us to 
have no concern in the welfare of the Caesars (i.e. 
the Emperors), look into the word of God, our 
Scriptures," &c. Origen, A.D. 230, " that the 
sacred volumes breathe the fulness of the Spirit." 
What, then, are we to think of Gemini and his 
Council of Nice, which sat in the fourth century ? 

BiL — Oh, he's a creature of necessity. 

Jack — In conclusion, we think that the beginning 
and end of Gemini s production, constitutes what 
Carlile would designate an immoral trinity, — -that 
is, two falsehoods producing a third, the tliird 
being all between. Now, Gemini, 

" Fare thee well, and if for ever, 
Still for eyer, fare thee weU," 

But that thy name may be handed down to poste- 
rity,) I propose the following epitaph (for this pur- 
pose) which a wag wrote on the most distinguished 
of Pyrrhonists : — 

" Here lie comprest, in oaken chest, 

Or here at least, did once lie, 
The blood and veins, and bones and brains, 

And soul of Gemini." 



n 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



OCCASIONAL PAPEKS. 



LETTER TO'T KING. 

At a meetin o't friends a Reform, held uppa ahr 
hull arston. May 7, it furst year a Reform, 
it wer reggillarly agreed on, at this letter 
shud he sent to ahr Royal Reform King: — 

M ESTER King, Sur — As wear all on us won a 
yore subjects, we think at hah it's nowt but ahr 
duty to express us joy, an deloit, an admiiashon, an 
approbashon, an sitch loik, uppat glorias victora at 
yon lately getn ore't ennamies a reform. Please 
yer honour, sur, its not ahr iutenshon to puff 
ya up we praisin ya ; but we will say this, o avver, 
yo nt best pluck a onna chap at's sittn uppa that 
throne this menny a year. Yoar summut loik a 
kinfj, yo are. Yo n dun mooar good sin yo cum 
nor hofe a grooas a kings afooar yo ivver did, an 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 7S 

yer name al be reich't dahn to mortallatta, if yo 
nivver dun anuther hopeth a good whoile yo livn; 
but we knone varry weel at yoar that sooat an a 
chap, at yo cahnt live wethaht dooin good to yer 
subjects. 

If ya please yer Madjesty, they yu'st to say 
abahtahr tuther king (yer brother yo knone) at 
hah't Duke wor*t chap wot droives the sovrin; but, 
sur, we're varry happy to say, an to see, at yo n 
geen things sitch a glorias twist, at nah they sen, 
at hah't Sovrin's t chap wot droives't Duke ; an we 
hooap at hah yo'l continna to droive booath't Duke 
an all't burrow mungrin crew till yo n drivven em 
all intot Terns. 

Sur, they sen at hah ift reform bill passes into 
a law at it al shak yer crahn off a yer heead : 
fudge — do nt believe em ; it al revvit it ten toimes 
faster on nor ivver. Its not a loikla thing, mun : 
when a king's crahn's putn on his heead be his 
ministers an his people, wot tratur dahr tutch it 
But your not to be diddled we sitch oud woman 
jargon as that, nother; nou, not sooa, yon 
sho'n em hah its dun ; an when they varra little 
expected it anole. An sur, its ahr prayer at yo'l 
gooa the rig till yon fettled t'hoil clean aht. 
An ahr ad voice is, at ift next parliament weanl 
reform, at yo'l hoil em aht ageean, an weel war- 
rand it, at they'l o'ther reform or refrain 't next 
toime. Sur, when we lookn at benefits at this 
reform bill al put on us wear rala astonisht at 
onna bodda shud be so mad as to oppooas it. One 
gud effect a this bill al be the makkin a 500,000 
new constuents throot best ant mooast trust worthy 



74 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

men it land, an al mak niooar strength forprotectin 
proparta, t'laws, ant loyalty at kingdom. Please 
yer honner, Sur, is this owt loik a revvolushon at 
silla Wetheril an Peel toke*t abaht. Bur, it al soon 
be all up we em, an its are desoir at yo'l mak it 
intoo a law. at onna burrowmonger at's catch't 
cuttin his throit, hangin, or drahndin his sen, or 
takkin onna sooat a poizon we a intenshon to kill 
his sen, shall be berrid at fore lane ends, an a stake 
drivven throo him; foryoknon, Sur, at when't bill 
passes, theal be a wooal gang on em al ha to gooa 
hooam, an its thowt be sum at they'l neer be able to 
survoive it ; an, Sur, we think at hah it al be't best 
way for yo to let em gooa hooam it neet as nobbada 
ma see em, an at yo*l be so koind as to provide 
mooarnin cooaches for em to gooa in, an at there 
may be a dumb peal rung at ivvera tahn they 
gooan throo, an't cooaches stop whoil they sing*t 
foUerin hymn, tain throot Sun newspaper : 

Curses booath doir an deep, 
Let us we fervor heap 

On Liberty. 

Ahr burrowmungering score, 
Alas, will nivver more 
Triumph the people o'er : 

Englandis free ! 

Satan, to thee we pray, 
Hurl patriot kings away. 

Let 'em not stand : 

An sin* we seek in vain 
Are burrows to retain, 
Let revolution reign 

O'er all't land! 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 75 

Sur, we'st send fore rat tlin chaps aht a Yorksher 
at al do ya sum good, — all reformers ; an we believe 
at hah yol have a grate majorratta e favor at bill, 
it next meetin; yo'l have sitch a glorias set a 
reformers as nivver sho*d iher faces e that hahce 
afooar; an't reflection a sitch a victora as yon 
gei'n al be a ivverlastin consolation to yer sen, an 
it al shed sitch a luster uppa yer name, as time 
itsen, we all its changes an revolutions, al nivver, 
nivver tarnish. Bless yer sowl, mun, yo'n wun all 
us hearts at won single strooak, an we re redda to 
follow ya, o'ther throo muck or blood, ast case mut 
requoire. Nah, pleeas yer Madjesta, afooar o be 
quoit wroitin this letter, we n to beg won thing on 
ya, an that is, at if ivver yo cum to Shevvild, at 
yo'l cum uppa ahr hull arston, an bring all yer oud 
razors we ya, an we'l mak em shave loik winkin. 
Sooa no mooar nah throo yore mooast royal and 
dutiful subjects, 

WHEELSWARFS. 

Ahr Hull Arston, Shevvild. 



CONVERSATION 

BETWEEN A FREETHINKER AND JACK WHEELSWARF. 

Freethinker — Well, Jack, you are throng 
grinding el sins, I see. 

Jack — Yis, Sur, here's nowt getn withaht 
workin. 

Free — What name do you strike ? is it Greaves 
which is marked upon the tang ? 



76 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack — Yis, Sur. 

Free — Is it the same Greaves which is so much 
noted for making good nails. 

Jack — T'samechap exactla, Sur; theysartanla 
dun mak best nails a onnabodda ; they'r not cut be 
steam, yo kno n ; they dooant mak em threesquare 
an withaht points. Cobblers has na kashon to bore 
hoils to nock ther nails it shoes ; they n nobbut to 
stick em intot soils, an away they gooan, an they 
lookn weel when they getn in, that's best on't. 

Free — Well, Jack, I balieve you are correct, 
and I believe they make the best clog nails of any 
house in the country, and as for their sprigs they 
are not to be equalled. 

Jack — Yore reit, sur, wot yo sen's truth itsen. 

Free — Yes, it may be, but there are many 
opinions about what truth is ; some believe that the 
Bible is truth, perhaps you are one of that class. 

Jack — Sloik e am, o see no reason whoy o 
shud'nt, can yo tell me onna ^ 

Free — Yes, Jack, the end for which it was 
written, and the persons who wrote it, are reasons 
sufficient for you rejecting it. 

Jack — Whoy, wot wor they written for, an 
whooa wor they wot writ em ? 

Free — They were written by a pack of priests, 
to gull the people. 

Jack — Then yo do'nt believe at hah Matthew, 
Mark, an't rest on em writ gospels, dun ya ? 

Free — ^^Certainly not, it's all a hoax. 

Jack — Yore shure they did'nt,are ya ? 

Free — Yes, quite confident; I don't believe 
that ever such persons existed. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 7t 

Jack — Wa, o kno yore mooar lam'd nor me, 
bur if yo sen them chaps did'nt wroit em, yo owt 
to tell us whooa did. 

Free — I have told you. 

Jack — Abbut wot did they call em, an wot cen- 
tury did they live in ? becos if yo cahnt tell that, o'st 
begin to think at hah yo kno'n varra little abaht it. 

Free — You are very ignorant. Jack; if you 
had read as much as I have, you would not suffer 
yourself to be gulled by the priests. 

Jack — O'st be a good deeal woiser if yo'l tell 
me wot they call'd chaps wot writ Boible, an when 
they lived. 

Free — Do'nt you see that the priests in all 
ages have used it to keep the people in subjection ? 

Jack — Aye, aye, sur, but wot did they call em, 
an when did they live ! — Don't shuffle, sur. 

Free — I don't consider myself under any ob- 
ligation to answer every silly question you may 
propose. 

Jack — Then yo don't kno wot they called em. 
nor when they lived, dun ya ? Nah, o'l ax yo a 
question ; — if yo cahnt lell me whooa wrote books 
at Scriptures, hah can ya prove at chaps did'nt 
wroit em whooas names they bear ? 

Free — (In a passion) I shall not answer any 
such questions. 

Jack — Becos yo cahnt ; summada's guH'd yo, o 
think ; wot part a yore bod da does yer soul lig in ? 

Free — Soul ! I believe in no such trash ; the 
modification of subtle matter is quite sufficient to 
produce thinking; but you. know very little about 
such subjects, I am certain. 



7% THE SHEITfELD DtALEOT. 

Jack — Aye, aye, is tlier matter thin etiuflT to 
think, eh ? Did ya ivrer see a square idea, or a 
oval thowt, sur ? Becos, yo kno n, all matter muti 
have sum shape to exist in, an if thinkin he ma- 
terial, why not have long thowts, an hard uns, an 
sum toimes varra soft ans, as yo seem to have just 
nah? 

Free — Don't you know. Jack, that every thing 
which has motion, supposes extent and solidity ? 
For instance, fear is an emotion, and produces the 
movement of trembling in the members. 

Jack — O dear aye, an joy al produce t' move- 
ment ajumpin, an luv al produce onna thing, an 
malice is a mooashon at ad sooin pull all yer hair 
off, whoil jellousy ad scrat yer een aht ; nah these 
is all on em material mooashons, an sum on em not 
varra noist ans no'ther ; but then if luv be matter, 
it ad seem odd to say a piece a luv, or a lump a 
joy, a yard a malice, or a peck a jellousy. Wotn 
ya say, sur ? 

Free — Why, Jack, these subjects are above 
your comprehension. 

Jack — ^Near moind ; nah yo sen at ivvera thing 
wots mooashon suppooases extent an soliddity, 
dooant ya ? 

Free — Certainly I do. 

Jack — Is ther onna mooashon e fear? 

Free — I have before shewn you that it produces 
trembling. 

Jack — Then fear is solid and extended as long 
as a May powl, happen, an as hard as a brick, eh ? 
Cum, cum, this is not being gull'd, o ^^avver; ac- 
cooardin to this doctrine, we'st have hard fears, an 



THE SHEFFIELD DlALEOt. VQ 

soft fears, long fears, an short fears, hot fears, an 
cowd fears, swift fears, an slow fears, black fears, an 
whoit fears, thick fears, an thin fears ; — ^is'nt this 
being guird, sur ? the philosophy of Helvetus, eh ? 

Free — You talk nonsense ? is not sound ma- 
terial ? and you would not say that it was heavy, 
or that it was measurable ? 

jACK'~0*dsay at sahnd wornt matter, an ol 
mak yo say sooa befoar oVe dun we ya, if yol 
stick to yer principles ; — ^yo believe at matter has 
an independent existence, dooant ya ? 

Free— Most certainly I do* 

J ACK — Did yo ivver kno sahnd produced witn- 
aht impression, or withaht air ? if not, o shud loikyo 
to tell me hah sahnd can be material, sin its de- 
pendent for its varra existence uppa impression an 
air ? 

Free — Well, well. Jack, perhaps you may be 
right, but its a subject which I have not studied 
much. 

Jack — Did ya ivver studda, owt, sur ? 

Free — ^Yes, Jack, I have studied much, and 
have forgotten more than ever you knew. 

Jack — An if o may judge at quallata a wot yo n 
forgetn, be wot yo knone nah, yore sartanly 
forgeln a gud deal at nivver wor worth kno'in ; 
but it puts me abaht to kno hah yo can oHher forget 
or remember owt. 

Free — You are no philosoper, or you would 
have known that all our ideas are impressed on the 
brain, and that all the particles which compose the 
human frame, undergo a change every seven years. 

Jack — That's rather odd, becos if ideas is im- 



80 THE SHEFFIELD DIAXECT. 

presst uppat brain, an ift brain changes iwera 
seven years, hah is it at o can remember owt at wor 
impresst twenla year sin ; becos oVe had new 
brains twoice sin then; wethaht toud brains tells 't 
new ans what they knone just as they cmn. Is this 
memra, Sur, or is it being gull'd ? 

Free — You are quite metaphysical. Jack. You 
are a curious fellow, where did you study ? 

Jack. — Uppa ahi hull arston, sur, an o think 
rayther to better purpose nor yo ban. Bur o'l ax 
ya anuther queshton, an then ol be off tot ware-has. 
Suppooas o ge up mo relidgen an taks to yores, 
shud o mak a better member a sociata, or a better 
father, or a better husband, or a better sarvant ? 
shud o be honnister, soberer, moral er ? shud o stick 
to me word better ? shud o be happier e me fam- 
mala, or e me awn moind ? will yore principles 
comfort me when o'm badla, an mak me bare 
afflictions we patience, an help me to meet death we 
curridge an quoitness, an ge me a bloomin hope a 
futur immortallata ? — becos mo relidgen al do this 
for me, an if yores al not do so much, o'd better 
keep this o've getn, an be gull'd, nor tak yores ; 
had nt e, sur ? 

Free — T shall soon begin to think that I have 
suffered myself to be gulled ; for I am certain my 
principles will do nothing of the kind for me ; but 
I will think of these things, and will see you again. 
Farewell. 

BiL Heftpoip — O say, oiid lad, o think thah*s 
ommast ungulled him ; o shud'nt wonder if he is 'nt 
at chappel a Sunday. 

Jack— wish he may, we all me heart. T'chap 



THE SHEYFIELIi DIALECT. 81 

seems to proide his sen in his larnin, an rala o 
cahnt see wot he*s larnt, nobbut to shuffle when 
he's axt a queshton. But o mun be off; thro me 
band off. Bill, witta ? 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 

Question — How do you prove the existence oi 
an intelligent God ? 

Answer. — Design proves it. 

Q.— How ? 

A. — Can any one examine a steam engine, for 
instance, and at the same time believe that it never 
was made ? Impossible ! And if we examine the 
contrivance and skill manifested in the works of 
God, every unbiased mind will be constrained to 
acknowledge them to be the contrivance of an 
intelligent God. 

Q, — What ai'e we to understand by the word 
nature ? 

A. — If the word nature be used for the intrinsic 
manner of existing, it means that constitution, 
make, or disposition, in which any thing is pro- 
duced. 

Q. — What are we to understand by mind or 
spkit ? 

A. — What the essence of spirit is, may not be 
known : bat its existence is (like matter) known 
by its properties. 

Q. — -What are the essential properties of spirit ? 

A. — Consciousness and volition, the existence of 
which is as certain as that of matter. 



82 T^B SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Q.- — Can organization produce thinking ? 

A. — Mere organization cannot be the cause of 
thinking or intelligence ; because it is plain, that 
precisely the same state of the organs shall often be 
found before and after death, and yet, without any 
violence having been done to them. In one 
moment man shall be actually intelligent, and in the 
next incapable of thought. Besides, organization 
is only the arrangement of parts, which possess no 
such power ; an d, when they are perfectly organized 
can produce nothing until the machine is acted 
upon, — and then, nothing contrary to its nature. 

Q.— From whence is human intelligence ? 

A. — Not from matter, either organized or un- 
organized. We have seen that it cannot be from 
organized matter ; and if from unorganized, then 
must all matter think. Intelligence, therefore, 
ipust come from an intelligent being, — and that 
being is God, 

Q. — Is the soul of man immortal ? 

A. — The soul of man being immaterial, is, 
therefore, incapable of being dissolved : and, we 
wiould say, let those who assert that the soul will be 
annihilated at death, prove it, for it does not occur 
to us, how death, which is only a privation, can 
annihilate that which has a positive existence. 

Q. — Is an infinite series of men possible ? 

A.— The notion of an infinite series of caused 
and successive beings, is absurd ; for of this infinite 
series, either some one part has not been successive 
to any other, or else, all the several parts of it have 
been successive. If some one part of it was not 
successive, then it had a first part, which destroys 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 8S 

the supposition of its infinity. If all the several 
parts of it have been successive, then they have all 
at once been future ; but if they have all been 
future, a time may be conceived when none of them 
had existence ; and if so, then, it follows, either 
that all the parts, and consequently the whole, of 
this infinite series must have arisen from nothing — 
which is absurd, or else there must be something in 
the whole, besides what is contained in dl its 
parts. 

Q.— What is life ? 

A. — The presence of an immaterial soul with the 
body, is the source of animal life; and the separation 
of the soul from the body, is that circumstance 
which causes death. Mr. Lawrence, indeed, makes 
life to consist in the sum total of all the functions : 
thus he makes life a cause which owes its existenee 
to its own operations ; and, consequently, a cause 
which, had it not operated to produpe itself, had 
never existed at all. 

Q. — What is man ? 

A. — Man is a compound being, made up oi 
matter and spirit. 

Q. — ^What is meant by a moral agent ? 

A. — He is a moral agent, who is capable ef per- 
forming moral actions ; and an action is rendered 
moral by two circumstances, — 1st. That it is 
voluntary ; 2nd. That it has respect to some rule 
which determines it to be good er evil. Moral 
good and evil, says Locke, is the conformity or 
disagreement of one voluntary action to some law, 
whereby good or evil is drawn upon us from the 
will ox pawer of the law maker. 



84 THF SHEiFIELD DIALECT. 

Q. — ^What, then, is that law hy which our moral 
actions must be tried ? 

A. — Such law, which, whatever it may he, must 
be given and enforced hy God himself, and have 
respect to him, — because there are many moral 
actions that cannot come within the cognizance of 
any human law, 

Q. — Do the Christian Scriptures contain the 
rule of moral action ? 

A. — Most certainly they do, and the purity of 
their morality is a proof of their Divinity. 

Q. — But it has been said that no testimony can 
prove any deviation from the known sequences of 
cause and effect, and that an event is impossible 
which contradicts our experience. 

A. — Indeed! — That is not only denying that 
testimony can prove a miracle, but it is denying 
the possibility of a miracle at all. So that whatever 
a man may have sensible evidence of, if it be con- 
trary to his experience, he must not believe it. 
Now, what would have been thought of the persons 
who saw our Saviour raise the dead, if they hiad 
said. We most certainly saw the body raised, we 
saw him walk, we heard him converse, we felt and 
handled him, and we know that he lived and acted 
same as before his death ; but then we are also 
convinced that such an event is contrary to our 
experience, and, therefore, we cannot believe it ? — 
Why, we should write, madmen. I would ask. 
Can the Almighty cause an event to take place, 
which should be a deviation from the laws of nature? 
They who believe in the existence of a God cannot 
deny it. Then it may be safely aflSrmed that an 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 85 

event is possible which might contradict our ex- 
perience. 



A LETTER TO ALL THE WESLEYAN 
METHODIST PREACHERS. 



And in his brain, 
Whicli is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
After a voyage, 'he hath strange places cramm'd 
With observation, the which he vents 
In mangled forms. — As you Like It. Act II. 



SuRS — reckon yo'l all on ya see Dicky 
Holly's satire : o mean when yo n seen this letter, 
yo nivver will see it ; an that's just wot o m wroitin 
to ya for. O reckon yo dooant kno him, but o doo, 
an o'l tell ya wot he is nah, and wot he has been. 
He has been a Methodist, an a useful Sunday 
Schoil taicher ; but o'm sorry to say at nah he's 
a confirmed atheist; an yo'll happen excuse us 
when we tell ya at we'n pledged us sens to look 
after this set; we kuone all't gang on em, an we'n 
grooapt all their sculls, from the infidel conductors 
of the Fargate Bull-dog,* to the execrable authors 
of '^ What is love," '' The system of Nature," and 
** The Ruins of Empires," an to a man theyn all 
a soft place in em. Nah, yo'l understand, at this 

* Figaro in Sheffield. 
E 



86 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Dick Hotly is a varra larned chap ; they sen at 
hah he can toke latten, an adder say he can ; an 
he can toke abaht toud Egyptian Heiines, an loiks 
his cosmoojcny better nor that a Moses, although 
there wor sum animals made then wot had na sense 
(an o think there's some on em left yet) ; an he 
can mak sum fooaks stare as if they were stuck, we 
tokin abaht Zoroaster's Magic Oracles, an as it 
happens he nolher kno's when he lived nor when 
he deed. An he can toke abaht Manetho, Berosus, 
Sanchoniatho, Diodorus Siculus, Aristotle, Plato, 
an that set, — in a word, upon religious subjects, he 
can toke owt but common sense. But still he's a 
varra sharp chap, o'l ashooar yo, for he's fun it aht 
at religion's all a farce, an at God nivver did give a 
revelation to man ; if he had, he says at hah he 
would a made it universal (hah did he get to kno, 
o wunder) ; an he says at nooa revelation can prove 
it sen — wot'st yuse a makkin it universal then; wot 
a flat ! Sooa then, if God gives a revelation to 
man, they'l beloik to ax Dicky Hotly whether it 
be true or not. 

Well then,yo'l tak nooatis, he's one a them sharp 
chaps wot weant believe at they've a soul. He 
once axt me to sho him one, an sooa if onna on 
ya's browt one we ya, yo'l happen let him have a 
look, an then he'll see what sooat on a thing it is. 
Be wot o heeard him say one neet, o rather think 
he believes at souls is made a phosphorus, an 
accoardin to a discovery made lately be a French 
brain scratter it taks abaht two grains an a hofe to 
mak a soul on a common sooat, bur o believe 
Dicky's ad weigh hofe a pahnd, its sich a wopper. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 87 

Wa then, aht at fullness of his brains he's 
devollopt anuther mystcra, an he tells fooaks at 
sun shoines be an eternal law ! Wotn yo think 
abaht that, gentlemen ; did ya ivver hear tell 
of an eteraai law befooar ? Nah, yo knone, 
for a thing to be eternal, it cahnt be sed at ivver 
it wor made; but ahr Dicky, poor fellow, has 
made that to be eternal wot must, of necessity, 
be dependent uppa summat else for its varra 
existence. Yo knone weel enufF at the words 
" eternal law" is as flat a contradiction as ivver wor 
spluttered. 

Wa then, Dicky's fun it aht at there's nooa sich 
things as spirits e existence ; nowt at sooat; its all 
a hoax : spirit means air, and sich loik . an o wonce 
heeaid him ax a chap for a definition of spirit, an't 
chap teld him just as much abaht spirit as he kno'd 
abaht matter ; an then he shuffled. Dicky says at 
hah he dus'nt kno wot tessence a matter is ! Whoy 
that's queer, is'nt it? for if he dus'nt know ivvera 
thing,hah can he tell at there is'nt beings e existence 
disinct throo matter ? an if he does kno all things, 
yo'd loik to see him adder say. Here is summat e 
existence, what he calls Deity; but wot it is o dooant 
kno, an o'm shooar yo ca'nt tell, for o heeard him 
say won neet, at it wornt matter, an spirits there is 
non, he says; whoy then it must be nowt, becos he 
says whativver is immaterial is nothing. He's a 
noist lad lo burlesque onnabodda is'nt he, think ya ? 
an we can ashoor ya at allt rest on em's as soft as he 
is, for they can non on em advance hofe a dozen 
steps in a metaphysical argument fit for a dog to 
grin at. Tubbe shooar, they can black, abuse, an 
E 2 



SB THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

bully 't ministers o relidgon, but neear heed em ; 
yone a better job agate. Remember wot oud 
Shakspere says — 

Men that make 
Envy and crooked malice nourishment, 
Dare bite the best. 

Leave em to us, an when ivver they eum in us 
way, we'll rattle ahr intellectual m usher abaht ther 
phosporus nappers, till they cry, hold, hold, enuff. 
Nail o could tell ya a gud deal mooar abaht this 
Dicky Hotly, but o shud think yo'n seen enuff 
to convince yo at its not yore duta to nooatice o'ther 
him or his satire. An sooa o'm yores respectively, 

A SHEVVILD CHAP. 



N.B. — O'd rather be a kittling and cry mew nor 
won a these same metre satire mongers. 



89 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE 
SHEFFIELD NEWSPAPERS. 



A grinder's OPINION OF A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN'S SPEECH 
DELIVERED IN PARADISE-SQUARE, IN FEBRUARY, 1829. 

Tot Editor at Shevvild Kurreiit, 

Mester Editer, — Sur, we'n been at booaih t' 
meetms, an we'n heeard booath soids, an nah we're 
bahn to ge ahr opinyon abaht summat at we heeard. 
We'sl confoine ahr remarks to George Cubitt's an 

L P 's speeches. Yo kno'n, mester editer, 

at hah't last gentleman sed he wud answer all at 
George Cubitt sed at t' Wednesday meeting ; an 
sooa we stopt till Friday to hear him ; an nah we 
han heeard him, an we do'nt think at he's hofe 
anser'd him. Nou, not sooa ; he'll foind him his 
wark, yo may wroit on't. 



^0 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

It furst place, L De*er contradicted him 

abaht that nasta dirta bill at they stickt up ageean't 
walls. He kno'd it wer a underleggin touch weel 
enufF: an then he forget term. Catholic emancipa- 
shon. He may do pratla weel to bawl tot Oirish- 
men, or javver abaht chetch-rates ; bur hell ne'er 
doo for sich forheeads as ahrs. We'n getn torgans 
a disarnment, an we can tell him at t' exclusion at 
Catholics wer a part at bill a roights. Nab, does 
he think at hah we're booath blind an soft ? We'n 
seen t' Acts, an if we are groinders, we'nt organ a 
judgment just aboon us een. Bur here's anuther 
thing: he ne'er refuted Cubitt abaht Cirkillatioii a 
traks e Spain, Italy, &c.; he ne'er tutch't him 
uppa this bit. It'st blessed liberty a Catholic 
toimes e 1829 ! Aye, aye; if o may rub me hand 
o'er L. P.'s cranium, o'st foind he had'nt t'organ 
a remembrance. An then, yo kno'ii at Cubitt sed 
at hah't constitution wei dove-tail'd, an at hah they 
cud'nt tay one part off withaht hurtin all on't. As 

for what P sed abaht this, it wer all me hoi an 

Betty Martin ; it nobbut amahnted to this much, 
at there wer anuther dove-tail put in. What he 
sed abaht this originated in his havvin t organ a 
quibblin ; but we're not to be diddled be quibblin 
lawyers. 

An nab for his replies to Cubitt's Magna Charta : 
an here oVe anuther desire to grooap his skull for't 
organ of evashon. Cubitt referred us tot burnin 
of William Sawtree, withaht a trial be jury. He 
ne'er sed at hah it wer no use to us ;: nou, not sooa. 
O'm astonisht. If it had been tuther Luke, o 
shud'nt a been 30 struckn as e am. An then 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 91 

ageean, yo kno n, Ciibitt sed at hah there wer't 

elements of a constitution e 1688; an there L 

sed at he sed we derived all us liberties throo us 
heathen ancestors. Nah yo nia see at a strooak 
he's getten't oi\gan a quibblin. an yo ma wroit on't, 
he's so yused to it at he cahnt help it; but o avver, 
he made t' Irishmen shaht rarely : an o'ther after 
this, or else befooar, he sed at hah all seeks perse- 
cuted e ther turns. Prethe, L , dun they doo 

sooa nah? Nou, not sooa. But Catholics does, 
booath e France, Italy, an Spain anole. once 
heeard Mr. Stafford, language larner, st^y, at hah 
they wuJ'nt let him taich u schooil e Italy, becoshe 
vvornt a Catholic; an its not long sin ivver so 
menny men wer imprison 'd e France, for wantin a 
Protestant parson. An if ta wants owt aht a Spain, 
thah ma gooa tot inquisishon, at's under sperritle 
guvvernment at Pope, an thah'l foind at between't 
year 1481 an 1808, not less nor three hundred an 
forta noine thahsand noine hundred an Iwenta one, 
wer burnt aloive, condemned tot galleys, &c. ; an 
mooar nor folve millions of inhabitants has dis- 
appeared e Spain, sin't holy office exercised its 
horrable ministry. Wot dusta think abaht this, eh ? 
This is't liberty a modern Popery e Catholic coun- 
tries. But thah's not getn't organ a disarnment 
for these things, oud chap. 

An then Cubitt sed ai hah Ireland wanted lam in ; 

an then yo kno'n, P sed they cud'nt have it, 

becos Catholics cud'nt endow schools. O, L , 

thah's a bad memory. Thah kno's well enuff at 
I'Catholic priests e Ireland dus'ntloike t'poor fooaks 
to larn. Its not aboon two year sin a mob, heeaded 



92 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

be a priest, set foiar to a Protestant school, aii't 
mester, pooar fella, wor fooarsed to run to save his 
napper. An here's sum mooar things at we'n fun 

L P aht in; bur we'n dun him enuff 

this toime. Bur o avver, there's anuther matter at 
we fun aht at Catholic chapel a Sunda, at stonishes 
us mooar nor owt else, an that is, at hah't Catholics 

is bahn to mak L a present, an its to be raised 

be subscription, fiu* his varra able speech e their 
favour. Nah o wonder what they'll ge him. 
Lawyers weant quibble for nowt, eh ? Ge him 
summat loikla, an he'll prate long enufF, O think 
e me heart, t'Lukes is all aloike ; for tuther Luke 
weant gooa a arrand withaht sum puddin. But 

we'd forgetn anuther thing. L toked abaht 

doin to others as he'd loik em to do to him. An 
nah we beg, at if ivver thah maks anuther ration to 
us, prethe do'nt pull such long fiddle faces at us, 
for we wod'nt do sooa to thee. 

Nah, Mester Kurrent, these is ahr opinyons, at 
we'n thowt uppa ahr hull arston, an we hooap at 
hah yo'l may em public ; for yo kno'n at us groin- 
ders is all on us his madjesta's loyal subjects, an wot 
ivver we ta e hand we awlls gooan throo we't, becos 
went organs a determination an perseverance. 

An sooa we're yore's respectably, 

JACK WHEELSWARF, 

Seckretary. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 93 

CHRISTMAS SINGING. 

Tot Editer at Shevvild Irish. 

Mester Irish — OVe heeard a great noise 
this year abaht whear't best singin ad be ; sum sed 
at hah it ad be at Ebenezer, becos they'll barrack 
band ; an sum sed at hah it ad be at Proddistant 
Methodisses; but won chap sed it ad be e Scotddon 
street, an anuther sed at hah it ad be at Norfolk 
street. O avver, o thowt it wodn't look weel to 
see't barrack sowgers we ther red breeches on it 
chappel. O thowt, thinks oi, o can see them onna 
toime it Hoido Park, when there's fireworks, or 
a balloon gooin off, an sooa yo seen, o wod'nt gooa 
there. An then, o thowt, wa o'l not gooa tot 
Proddistants, an't orkester at Norfolk street is at 
trang end at place, sooa o wod nt gooa there. O 
avver, at last o concluded to gooa tot Sahth street 
dahn't Moor, an heear what sooart an a squad they 
wor. Sooa o gooad at hofe-past ten it mo.min, 
bowt a book at chap at dooar, an intot gallara o 
ran, clapt mesen dahn fair facin em, an o sartanla 
thowt at hah it wert noisest seet at ivver o seed e 
all me loife, they all sempt to be dranged sooa 
pratta A noister set a lasses an good looking chaps 
ne'er sang at Chrissmas ; o wor reight dahn pleased 
we em afooar iv\er they sang a ninch. Bur o 
avver, as soon as furst strooak wor strackn, it made 
mo hair stan streit o me heead for joy. O thowt, 
thinks o, t'barrick sowgers me bio ther een aht 
afooar they can ma sitch music as* this ; an as fort 
Proddistant chaps they bet em castles. But at 
E 3 



94 THE SHEFFIELD DIALEClfi 

six at neet, o sartanla thowt won at fiddles sed 
allaluyah. O avver there wer won member wit 
trumpet made me feel varra queer ; o dooant think 
at hah Clegg cud a dun it better. An then, sur, 
there wer two chaps, wit twizzled trumpets, ant 
chaps wit things at they pull backard an forrad, 
an't chaps wit fintes, an't chaps wit bum bases, wer 
all proinie workmen. But thear wer won chap at 
top a alU at play*d a crater loik a corner cubberd. 
O thowt at hah it wert grate gron father a alFt hum 
base^. Moi hoi,- he made it thunder aht just loike 
mahnt Etna, when its bahn to brust. Bur o avver^ 
sur, if o ma tell ya ah at wonce, o thowt it wer loike 
be 'in it York minster; for*t lasses sang loike neetin- 
gales, an't rest on em switcht away loike winkin^ 
ne'er seed nowt loike it e Shevvild afooar. It 
made sitch a depreshon uppa mo feelings, at whent' 
collectin box cum, o geed t'chap sixpence all at 
wonce, an it were worth it an ale. An nah, sar, o'st 
conclude, we ge'in it as mo opinyon at hah't 
Sahth-street chaps ist top sawyers this Chrissmas^ 
an sooa o'm yore respectable groin der, 

A SHEVVILD CHAP. 

December 26, 1829. 



PRIZE FIGHTING. 

To't Editor at Skevvild Markara. 

guR, — O seed e yore paper tlast week a letter 
soigned Pollux, an we yore permission o'l mak sum 
remarks on't. We ban e this letter sum reasons 



THE SHFFFIELD DIALECT. 95' 

fort increase a depravvata e this large an poppillous 
tahn, an these reasons is said tubbe War an 
Ingenuity. Nah, Sur, o m at a Joss to kno wot 
Pollux means, when he says at hah't chaps wots 
aht a wark is fooarced to ha recourse to ther awn 
ingenuity to save ther sens thro want an poverta, 
an gooin throo voice to voice, they wallow it very 
moire a depravvata, with aht he means they n 
plenta a toime to larn to box, an sooa we gooin 
throo brothel to brothel to mak feightin matches, 
they wallow it moir a depravvata; if this is what^he 
means, o understand : but, alas ! feightin*s his 
favourit system, its manly and noble, its poor 
man's amusement, an its suppooarted bi't press an 
sum at gentlemen it cuntra, an its sum props it 
ncbillata ; an last a all, its be this varra rational 
system at t'Inglishman settles his disputes we : o 
rare boxer, thah's sum proime recommendations to 
mak us admoire thee ; but o think Mester Pollux 
thah's rather libelled charracter a Inglishmen ; o'm 
a Inglishman, but o'st be asham'd o me ears to re- 
duce mesen tot state a brutallata at thah recoinends. 
If that system wer general weest have ivvera petty 
foggin fop darknin us eyes if we shud happen to 
contradict him ; an if wot o'm sayin shud mak the 
mad, o may expect sum o thah poor man's amuse- 
ment abaht mo ears, as't mooast rational way a 
sattlin this dispute. O cahnt pretend to tell wot 
sooart a ideas thah has abaht morals a Shevvild, but 
if thahl gooa it woods on a Sunday, thah ma see 
plenta a the awn crew practisin't noble art a boxin, 
an then tell us w^ot maks a part a Shevvild's de- 
pravata. Here we'n booath't laws o God an man 



96 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECTi 

brokken, an thah may gooa throot streets an thah 
may hear young ans makkin feights, we all't 
attei dant cm'ses uppa your eyes an limbs, an then 
tell us whether feightm dus'nt mak a part o 
Shevvild's depravvata. Goaa tot ring, where thah 
ma see two brawny fellows we a savvage fierceness 
not to be met we it brute creation, manglin an 
braikin one anuthers lims, and then tell us whether 
feightin maks a part a Inglands depravvata. — 
Gooa tot ring where murderous pugilism's made a 
system a gamblin, an wheart feelings of a motley 
mob's nobbut hardened we seein slawter an death ; 
an put to these miseries brokken constitutions, 
starved-to-deeath families, burden 'd parishes, an 
childer ruin'd be bad example, an then tell us 
whether boxm maks a part a Ingland's depravvata. 
An still Mester Pollux hast impidence to recom- 
mend this worse nor beastly system tot public — a 
outrage agean humanata, an a insult to common 
sense. But he says its suppooarted be gentlemen, 
an sum at nobillitta. Aye, aye, an o'd say prosti- 
tutes, thieves, gamblers, swindlers, vagabonds, an 
ail't scum a In gland ; a group quite worthy a sich 
a system. — Yours, &c. 

J. WHEELSWARF. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



THE TEMPERANCE CHRONICLE. 

No. 1. 



Scene — Six or seven ivorkmen sat round the fire, 
reading Mr. Buckingham s BilL^ 

JooA Guzzle — Well, it's softest bill at eer o 
seed e all me loif. 

BiLLA Slape — 0, he's mad, mun. 

Jack Swallow — did'nt think he'd been sitch 
a fooil. 

Jack Wheelswarf {Entering) — Hollo, hollo, 
wot nah ? wot's all this noise abaht ? 

Tom Swipes — Hey, oud lad, bear's the foine 
Silk Buckingham's insane bill here; he owt to he 
sent to Bedlam for a year or two, to talk to't chaps 
wot's crazy. A varra noist man ! he wants to bring 
t* spy system up. We'st not be allah'd to get a 
point a ale, withahthavvin a policeman at us heels , 

* A Bill brought into Parliament by Mr. Buckingham for, 
the suppression of drunkenness. 



08 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

an takkin us up whether were drunk or nooa, just 
when they'n a moind ; but if ivver he cums here 
agean, we'll stooan him. 

JooA — O cudnt a thowt at he'd ivver a made 
sich a ass on his sen ; ivvera bodda*s laffin at his 
crazy bill, an all t* members it Hahce a Commons 
al lafF at it when they seen it. Besoide, wot bis- 
ness has he to meddle we us ? Cahnt we get drunk 
when we*d a moind for him ? we do nt ask him to 
pay for it; he'd better moind his own wark, an let 
us alooan ; he mo'nt gooa for Shevvild na mooar. 

Harry Sap — Look wothundreds apahnds t'lan- 
lords al loise; sitch as Bil Grey, and Tom Wila, 
an that set, wot's made sitch alterations an accom- 
modations for their customers ! Il'st mooast unjust 
bill at ivver wer made. 

Jack Swallow- — He ca'nt hinder us for gettin 
drunk after all he's dun ; becos when we'n had a 
quart at one place, we can gooa to anuther. But 
wot's to becum on us families when we gooan tot 
hoilJ* This al be noist fort parish; for o'm quoit 
shure t* rooad to Wakefield al nivver be clear ; t' 
ratepayers al sooin curse Buckingham's Bill. 

Tom — O'l have ale if theas onna to b3 getn it 
spoit o Jemmy Buckingham or his bill o'ther. Its 
proime this ; we're not to have a point at after 
we'n dun at neet. O wish o had him here; 
o'd drahnd him we wheel swarf. And we're to have 
none at all a Sundays. It's unbarable this! He's 
dun it to pleas't parsoTis. O'l neer run abaht to 
get him vooats na mooar. 

BiLLA — ^Yo do'nt need to bother yer sens, that 
soft Bill al ne'er pass. Country's not prepared for 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 09^ 

it. But its loike all't rest on his hare brained » 
tricks. He cahnt be reit in his heead, o'm shure ; 
for he's setten all't nation a laffin at him. Besoid 
his Bill is*nt practicable ; and o shud think he'll 
ne'er be so soft as to bring it in. 

Jack — A bodda cahnt get a word in edgevvay 
we yo ; it must be a shocking bad Bill : but o shud 
loike to hear it read, an then o can judge for me 
sen. Jooa, read it, wilta ? 

J DO A — OVe na patience to read sitch stuff; thah 
may get suramada else. 

Harra — 01 read it the, oud lad, but o do'nt 
loike it. {Here he begins to read, but is inter- 
rupted,) 

BiLLA — Thro it it foir. 

JooA — Put it it wheel kit. 

Tom — Rip it up. 

Jack Swallow — Aht at winder we it. 

Harra — Cum, cum; Jack owt to hear it, at 
onna rate, as weel as us. Soilence. (Harry 
proceeds to the end.) 

Jack -Thank the, Harra, o can exercise me 
awn judgement nah. 

Jooa — Wa, an wot dusta think abaht it, eh ? 

Jack — Why, I think there's na need to black t* 
poor iellow, as yo'n been blackin him. Wot is 
ther in it ats so van'a bad ? O can see nowt. 

BiLLA — Then thah't bloind; its all bad; there's 
not a bit a good in it. 

Jack — Billa, thah deeals rather to much it 
wholesale line for me ; but cum nah, let us examine 
these objections fairly, and withaht prejudice a 
o*ther soide. 



100 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack Swallow — Thai's nowt but reit, an o 
think if they'r fairly look't into, ihey'l be fun pratta 
weighty. 

Jack — Wa, then, Tom Swipes says at it al 
bring't spy system up. Nah o think not; o think 
it differs varra much throo't spy system, for it must 
be considered that t' police officer al have no 
inducement whatever to tak a man unjustly; and 
secondly, it al be a varra difficult matter for him 
to get two witnesses aht an a ale -ass to swear 
that anuther wer drunk. 

J 00 a — But policemen ad hire men a purpos to 
sware owt. 

Jack — Then he'd be sooa much bigger a fooil to 
pay part of his wages to others for doing wot ad 
nivver benefit him a fardin. That al not do, at 
onna rate. 

Billa — Wa, o think me sen 't policeman wod nt 
be sitch a flat as that no'ther; but gooa on. Jack. 

Jack — Wa, then, Jooa Guzzle says at ivvera 
bod ."a's laffin at it. An if they are, what does that 
prove ? O laft at it becos it pleased me, be fillin 
me we hopes that ere long drunkenness would be 
no longer practised in this Christian country: others 
laff at it because they think it a silly bill; and some 
feign to laff, who at the same time are afraid of 
losing their traffic ; but after all, it is much easier 
to laff at a bill than to prove it unreasonable ; it 
must take a man of some parts to show by a pro- 
cess of reasoning that any new project will or will 
not succeed; but Any idiot may laff, although he 
may not be able to advance one single step in any 
argument whatever. Yes, and many who wish to 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 101 

be thought wise men find it more convenien t to laff 
at an argument than to refute it. Well, then, Jooa 
seems to think at he's a reit to get drunk onna 
toime when he's a moind ; nah o say he has'nt. 
He's nooa business to get drunk at all, becos a man 
wots drunk is a nuisance to society. The man wot 
deprives his sen of the use of his reason, is not ^l 
for the company of reasonable beings. An habitual 
drunkard is a walking pest. His belly is like a 
swill -tub, an his flesh and bones are as foul as a 
rotten turnip. The stench of his besotted carcase 
is actually unbarable; he's neither fit for earth, 
heaven, nor hell; he's a creature without com- 
parison, for he's neither like man, beast, nor 
devvle — 

Tom — Houd, houd. Jack, thah't layin't sledge 
hammer on ; o cahnt stan it no longer ; thah's 
made me hate seet a me sen, ommast. For wot o 
think, o'l near get drunk no mooar ; thah's changed 
moi opinion at bill, o avver. 

Jack — But Harra Sap says it's unjust, becos, 
says he, t' landlords has spent so much money e 
makkin alterations an accommodations for ther 
customers. O'm sure, Harra, thah't varra feeiin. 
T' landlords owt to be obliged to thee: thah'l get a 
glass for that, o'm shure. But dusta think, Harra, 
at when these misery-makkers made these altera- 
shons, at they studdid thah interest or ther awn, 
eh ? There can be little daht abaht this queshton ; 
an let me tell the, at they were made with a shure 
calkillation at sitch dupes as thee had pay for it ? 
Well, then. Jack Swallow thinks " at theal be as 
much drunkenness when t' Bill's past as ther is 



102 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

nah." But o think not; for there's a many wot al 
get drunk, wot wod'nt loike to gooa tot hoil for it; 
that's clear enufF. An then if a lanlord nobbut gets ' 
foind wonce for havvin a man drunk in his house, 
he'l tak care at that chap near gets drunk there 
agean ; that's another check. An besoid, there al 
not be aboon won-sixt at ale-ases at ther is nah ; 
an nooa dramshops ; it al be all up we that set, 
Sooa there al not be't means at there is nah. But 
Jack wants to kno wot's to becum on his famala 
when he's it hoil. Prethe, Jack, wot becums a the 
famala when thah't drinkin three or four days a week, 
eh ? Wot dusta do we the famala then, eh ? Thah*t 
vaira uneasy abaht the famila then, arnt ta, eh ? O 
can tell thee wot becums on em. Tha woife, wot 
war wonce as bloomin a lass as ivver't sun shoined 
on, is nah reduced to a mere skeleton ; her squalid 
cheeks tell a tale of woe hardla to be utter'd, with- 
out wishin she had never been born, or cursing the 
hour when she gave herself away to one who makes 
her life intolerable. The childer are covered, and 
hardla cover'd, even with rags, an hofe pined to 
death ; whilst thou art skulking at the ale-house, 
finding fault, to be sure, with the parliament men 
for makkin bad laws, an not finding us wark enufl[*, 
when at same toime thah't to idle to doo hofe a wot 
la has; an there thah sits we the poip e the cheek, 
an a stream of filthy slaver running down both 
sides a the besotted mahth, an the rags all bedaubed 
we rolling, loike a pig, e the awn muck, a spectacle 
too ugly, too filthy, too loathsome for human eyes 
to behold, without a shudder of disgust striking 
through one's frame. There thah sits, quite ripe 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. l03 

for anything horrid or abominable ; neither the 
tender entreaties of an affectionate wife, nor thy 
children's piercing cries for bread, can make the 
slightest impression on thy callous heart ; nothing 
but oaths and curses can escape thy slaky lips. 
What a mass of corruption — what a human muck- 
middin ; — what a sample a depravity, only to be 
seen on earth ! What al becum a the famala when 
thah't e prison ? — Good stars ! why, they will be a 
thousand times happier withaht the ; the wife ad 
bring the childer up comfortably but for thy drun- 
kenness. Thah*s popt all the own clooas, an hers 
anole, an thah nocks her eyes up because shoo 
weant foind thee summat else to swallow. Thah 
wears the Sunday clooas ivvera day, an thah*t 
forced to sit lounging uppat arston withaht shirt 
whoile the woife weshes it. Thah's nobbut won 
pair a shoes, an thah't forced to tee em rahnd the 
ankles; an thah get the coit sleeve torn off tuther 
neet in a lark when thah owt to been e bed ; an 
thah wants to know wot's to becum a the famala, eh ? 
Aye, aye, thah must be troubled abaht the famala ! 
- Jack Swallow — It's all true; but thah did'nt 
owt to let lo ce a that fashion : but o'st be loik to 
alter* 

Jack — The next objection is, says Tom Swipes, 
t' Jerry shops are to be closed at eight o'clock, we 
arn't to have a point after »wen dun. O yes you 
may : brew yerself, Tom, yol get it for hofe at 
price, and ten times better. But its my opinion 
you would be much better without any ; however 
at onna rate, you*l be better without Terry shop ale. 
Well then, another evil in this drunken Bill is that 



104 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

these shops are to be closed on Sundays. This is 
the best bit abaht it ; for to see a man drunk at 
week-days is bad enufF; but to see a fellow come 
rolling drunk on a Sunday mornin, (when others 
are just going to the house of God,) reeling and 
staggering about from one side of the path to the 
other, insulting every one wot his heavy eyes can 
get a lazy look at, is a crime doubly sinful; it is a 
direct insult to all law both human and divine. But 
how much more reasonable would it be if men, 
instead of visiting the ginshop on a Sunday mornin, 
would repair to some place of devotion, there to 
mingle their praises to that God who is the author 
of their existence, who has blest them with all the 
comforts of life, smd made such ample provision for 
their present and eternal welfare ! This would be 
something like rationality ; and were this the con- 
stant practice of men, those infernal haunts of vice, 
the gin shops, would soon become extinct, sobriety- 
would take the place of drunkenness, and a great 
moral reformation would be the consequence. 

BiLLA — Its no yuse tokin mun, his bill's 
not practicable, an besoide, cuntry's not prepared 
for it. 

Jack — Well, but wot part at bill is it ats not 
practicable ? 

Bill A — Whoy its all on it not practicable. 

Jack — But how dusta know — by what process 
of reasoning can ta prove it ? 

BiLLA — Whoy becos ivvera body says at hah it 
isnt. 

Jack — But it ofFens happens at wot ivvera 
bodda says is a loi. Dus'nt thah know. Bill, at 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 105 

^' they say " is t' first word of a loi ? Besoide thah 
shud nivver black a man's character we heearsay 
tales ; thah shud awlis hear and see for the sen, an 
then thah can exercise the awn judgment ujDpat 
case. O mun have it proved before o can believe 
it. 

BiLLA — Well do'nt care wot ta says, o'm sure 
it is'nt. 

Jack — But if thah cahnt prove it is sooa, thah'd 
better houd the noise. Hah dusta know its 
impracticable ? 

BiLLA — Whoy becos it is. 

Jack — '^ Whoy becos it is ! " This is a general 
argument against this drunken bill. If we ask a 
score of fellows why the bill is impracticable, we 
get a similar answer, " Whoy becos it is ! " But 
pre the Billa, is it impracticable to give up selling 
small quantities of spirits on the premises — or to 
shut up these dens of destruction on the Sabbath- 
day — or to close beer shops at eight o'clock atneet, 
or to sell the licenses to the highest bidder — which 
would prevent favouritism — are these things im- 
practicable ? To me, at least, they seem easy 
enuff to be done. 

Billa — Abber o near look'd at it a that road. 
But thah ma depend on, it cuntry*s not ready for 
it. He wants ta do too much at wonce man. 

Jack — Can a man do too much to remove the 
greatest evil that ever cursed the land ? Drunken- 
ness is the crying sin of Engknd, and the man who 
employs his time and talents (as Buckingham has 
done) for its removal, is an honour to his country, 
—To hear sich men as thee, Billa, make sich 



106 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

objections, is not so much to be wondered at; but 
to hear men who profess to be the followers of 
Jesus Christ telling the world that the people are 
not prepared for the removal of drunkenness, is a 
sickner. Then it appears that drunkenness is 
necessary a little longer yet; and although a remedy 
might be found, the country's not prepared for it. 
What do they mean ? 

BiLLA — Whoy, they mean at hah he shud ha 
done it by degrees. 

Jack — Yes, just as men get drunk by degrees* 
But o think that half measures al nivver do any 
good in this ca^e ; it must be a regular sweeper to 
upset drunkenness. It is a desperate case, and 
requires severe treatment. Suppose a man attacked 
by the cholera, and the physician, seeing it to be a 
desperate case,orders mustard plasters to be applied 
to his body, and his friends tell the medical 
gentleman that the patient is not prepared for it; 
what would he say, or what would he think of such 
conduct ? 

Tom — Whoy, he'd say they wanted him to 
dee. 

Jack — Yes, and he most certainly would dee, by 
degrees anole. j)runkenness, then, is a moral 
cholera; and it will require a mighty effort to 
remove it. But I grant there are some who are 
not prepared for it. It is a fact that a person said 
he would risk hell for drink ; he was not prepared 
for it. The gin and spirit sellers, whose traffic 
brings on individuals and families an overwhelming 
flood of misery and distress, are not prepared for it. 
The drunkard, the debauchee, and the prostitute 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 107 

are not ready for it. But who are prepared for it ? 
Every sober^ honest, and industrious man ; every 
one who has the fear of God before his eyes. These 
are prepared for it. And ask the children of the 
drunkard — ask his wretched, ragged, and all but 
murdered wife, — ask the mother, driven to des- 
peration by the execution of her dissipated son ; 
and the orphan, made so by the untimely death of 
drunken parents; ask the convict, who broke the 
laws of his country in a state of intoxication ; ask 
the emaciated youth, whose vicious life has stretched 
him on a bed of sickness, with the certainty of death 
before his eyes, and the more fearful expectation of 
hell in a future state, as the just reward of his 
infatuation (for the word of God informs us that 
drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom of heaven) 
— ask these, then, if they are prepared for it. 
What then, will religious men still affirm that the 
country's not prepared for it ? Let a blush of shame 
redden their cheek, and a sigh of repentance heave 
their breast for ever having uttered a sentence so 
cruel and so untrue. 

Tom — 01 ne'er say nowt agean him na mooar. 

Jack Swallow — Nor me no'ther. 

Harra — Abodda wer in a passion. 

BiLLA — O think different o t bill nah, but still 
o think it al not pass. 

J 00 A — O kno his bill's agean mo habits; but 
he'st have mo vooat, cum when he will. 



108 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



THE TEMPERANCE CHRONICLE. 



BiLLA Slape — Hesta seen that letter at wer e 
Wila*s winder, Bil, abaht Buckingliam ? becos o 
understand he says at hah we re all on us a pack a 
thickheeads e Shevvild. 

BiL Heftpoip — Thah't shure he sed sooa, are 
ta, Billa ? 

BiLLA — Wa, o heeard a chap say sooa wot red 
it, an menny a won besoide. 

BiL — Abbut he near sed nowt at sooat. Wot 
he sed wer summat else. As near as o can remem- 
ber, he sed at hah ivvera parliament man owt to be 
as much superior to his constituents e legislative 
knowledge as a father is to his childer, or a school- 
mester to his scholars; an o think sooaanole. He 
must have a muddy set a brains at studies politics 
ommast all his loife, an yet kno*s no mooar abaht 
good or bad government, woise nor foolish laws, nor 
a workin man. But still he dus nt say at ivvera 
legislator is sooa, but at they owt to be. 

Billa — But o reckon he means ta say at he is. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 109 

Bix^L — If he dus'nt mean to say sooa, o do. 
Prethe, wot did onna on us kno abaht tEast Inda 
Company's monoppola befooar he cttm an tell'd us; 
an wot did we kno abaht duties of a legislator 
befooar he informed us it Music Hall ? An whooal 
ivver forget him peppevmg Eneas Macdonald ? 
Eneas nivver will ; an o*l venter to say, at wot he 
sedthat afternoon, proved at he'd mooar knowledge 
abaht that subject than all't politishons e Shevvild 
put together. But whooas cummin ? 

JooA Guzzle — it's Lusha — drunk ageean. 

Bill — It puts me abaht, Lusha, to kno hah thah 
carries on; thah's been drunk ivvera day for a fort- 
nit, an near struckn a strooak ; an thah kno*s we 
want I'knoives to finish, an the mester wants to 
livver em, but it's ten to won but he'll get t' order 
cahntermahnded nah. 

LusHA — Dusta houd owt, Billa, o want another 
jill, an then o'l gooa to me waik. Match me this 
iiopena, wilta ? 

BiL- If ta arnt off, Lusha, varra sooin, o'l thro 
thee it goit, thah idle scamp. They toke abaht 
groinders (an we kno they're bad enuff, sum on 
em), but they're nobbada where ihah cums. There's 
nowt at thah'l not do for ale. Thaht the mooast 
infamous loiar at ivver existed ; thah went last week 
to yore mester, an teld him the woife wer e labor, 
an thah wanted ten shillin to get summat to mak 
her cumfortable we. O dear a}e, shoo's sum cum- 
fort we ihee, shoo has : but thah cud'nt cum it ; 
he kno'd his man. An then thah set off tot Funeral 
Club, an teld em the woife wer deead, an thah pre- 
tended to rooar, did't ta ? But thah's not dun we 
J? 



dlJ0 THE SHE5FIELD BIAlEct. 

that yit. And becos thah cud nt cum no*ther a tliese 
points, thah went hooam, an whoil the woife went 
aht to beg a morsel a bread for't childer, thah fetch t 
bed an pawned it for seven shillin, an the woif an 
three childer's been fooast to lig uppat straw ivver 
sin, an nah their gone tot warkass, an if thah 
dus*nc cut thah mun gooa for a month — but here 
he cums ; it's all up nah — (Constable comes in, 
with Lushys wife's father,) 

Constable — Cum, Lusha, thah mun go we 
me, thah'l get it this time. 

Father — Of all the disgusting objects that ever 
came in contact with my vision, thou art the most 
hateful. Thou hast a human form, 'tis true, but 
there is nothing else about thee worth the name. 
Thou art completely stultified, and completely lost 
to all sense either of shame, honour, or consistency. 
Not a single feeling of love or affection is ever kin- 
dled in thy breast, no, not to the dearest friend thou 
hast on earth. Thy life is loathsome, even to thy- 
self;; and thy vicious appetite has rendered thee 
incapable of ever extricating thyself from the abso- 
lute power of a tyrant, whose influence increases 
upon thee the longer thou art governed by him. 
That unquenchable thirst for ale which possesses 
thee, has stript thee of every thing like rationality, 
so that thy present state, wretched as it is, excites 
no feelings of contrition in thy heart. Admonition 
is lost upon thee ; it is like throwing a spark into 
a sink of filth and nastiness, only to be extinguished 
the moment it falls. Thou hast mixed up with 
thy composition a poisonous infusion which will 
prey upon thy vitals as insidiously, yet as securely. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. Ill 

as the blood-sucking vampyre. Thou livest hated 
and hating, and (if grace prevent not,) thou wilt 
die unlamented, and thy children will dance thee 
to thy grave. 

Constable — I think I do'nt need to hopple 
thee; thah can hardly walk, much more run away. 
Come on, my lad, thah'l be sober when thah*s 
been a neet under t'clock. ( Constable takes him 
away^ ) 

Jack — This is a stiffner, o avver. Whooad 
ivver a thowt at onna chap ad a dun wot he's dun 
for ale ! 

Harry Sap — A man, we n seen many a plate 
at thah kno*s nowt abaht. 

Jack — Cum then lets have sum on em. 

Bill A — O wonce seed a chap at ad chewbrokken 
glass till't blood ran aht on his mahth a stream for 
a point a ale ; an o Ve seen two chaps gooa aht on 
a alehouse into a pop-shop, an one on em pawn 
his shoes offen his feet, jump uppa tuther chap's 
back, an ride back tot alehouse an spend't brass. 

J GO A — once seed three on em tee a hofe brick 
up e brahn paper, an put a knoif at ahtsoid, an 
sell em to a Irishman for hofe a grooas a knoives; 
an kno a woman at pawn'd her shift sell 'd froin 
pan an smoothin iron, cut bottom at bed oppen, 
took feathers aht an sell'd em to raise money for 
ale ; an shoo wonce teed a sheet rahnd her body, 
as her husband mut nt see at shoo had owt, an 
pawned that. 

ToM^ — Abbur o kno a better plate nor onna o 
them, at wor made sin Christmas, uppat Mooar. 
Ther wer foive on em ; well then, two on em went 
f2 



112 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

into an oud hahce, and one pull'd his tralisers off, 
a varra good pair anole, an there he sat in a corner 
hofe starved to deeath, whoile tuther lot went an 
pawned em lor foive shillin. Wa then, they 
set off to a clock makker at sell'd clocks for foive 
shilling t' furst payment, an a shillin a week after. 
They got a clock, went an popt that for fifteen 
shillin, then went an loosed chap's trahsers an took 
em tot oud hahce, an then they'd ten shillin to 
spend. OVe seen a woman sell her bonnet for 
tuppence-hopena, an o kno two chaps at nockt ther 
vices up an pawned them for ale ; an o Ve knone 
chaps, mooar nor wonce, get a looad a coils o ther 
mester, an order em to be liver 'd at a alehahce for 
a shilling or two less nor they cost, for hofe money 
an hofe ale. 

Harrt — O kno a chap at listed fort sake of a 
shillin to get some ale, an at after wor fooast to 
pawn a suit of clooas to raise money to pay smart 
we ; he w^or a sharp an, wo*nt he ? OVe seen a 
pensioner pawn his affidavy, an o've seen anuther 
get beef stakes a strap, an sell em for ale : oVe 
spen steel left for ale, an o've seen a fellow pull his 
shirt off an sell that for ale ; an oVe seen breead 
sell'd hot aht at oven for ale. 

Jack Swallow — Wa but o kno on a dacent 
plate or two. O kno a oud lass at went to a dram 
shop for a bottle a gin, an moind ya, shoo'd two 
bottles in her basket, an won wer filled we watter, 
an when t'chap ad filled her bottle we gin, shoo 
took it, put it intot basket, an pulling tuther aht 
rather in a hurry, shoo sed, " O dear, just let me 
leave it here whoile o gooa it market, an then o'l 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 113 

call an pay for it." '' yes, to be sure/' sed 
t waiter, *' well take care (»f it." An sooa he did, 
for shoo ne'er fetch 't it. OVe knone a chap gooa 
hooam after he'd been drinking a week, to pay his 
woife till shood get him a shilling at shoo'd getn be 
weshing: an as for poppin coits, hats, shoes, an 
sitch loike, that's a ivvera day job. 

BiL — OVe had it teird me for a truth, at a chap 
had been drinkin for a fortnit, an durin that time 
one on his childer fell badla. His woife went an 
teld him many a toime at it wer loikla to dee, bat 
he wod nt move. In a day or two it deed, an won 
at childer went to tell him that, but he wod nt leave 
his lush. Well, just when his woife had getn 
ivvera thing redda for berrin't choild, in he cums, 
taks coffin oiFat table, sets it on tot flooar, sams 
table up, taks it away, an pops it for mooar ale. 

Jack Swallow — See the, Jooa, here's Fuddle's 
lass bringin sum wark on her shoolder ; hah's that, 
o w under ? 

Jooa — Are ta fooast to carry t* wark thesen, 
lass ? wot's ta dun wit jackass ? has he getn it, 
pinfoud, or hah ? 

Lass — Nou, he's not it pinfoud as o kno on, 
but he's disappeared. 

Jooa— -Wot, has he flown away, then ? 

Lass — Nou, he's nobbut a unloikly bird to fioi. 

Jooa — Wa, wot's becum'd on him, then, let's be 
knoin. 

Lass — Well, if omun tell ya't truth - -mefath er's 
swallow'd him. 

Jooa — The fath'er's swallow'd him ! He must 
'have a rare wide gullet ; hah did he get him dahn ? 



114r THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Lass — he melted him, an he went dahn be 
degrees ! 

BiL — See the. Jack, here's Dr. Letsom's list of 
the effects of drunkenness; — idleness, peevishness, 
quarrelling, fighting, lying, swearing, obscenity, 
swindling,'perjury, burglary, murder, and suicide. 
Drunkenness brings on sickness, puking, and tre- 
mors in the hands in the morning ; bloatedness, 
inflamed eyes, red face, sore and swelled legs, jaun- 
dice, pains in the Ihnbs, and burning in the palms 
of the hands and soles of the feet, dropsy, epilepsy, 
melancholy, madness, palsy, apoplexy, death; and 
is punished by debt, black eyes, broken bones, rags, 
hunger, hospital, poorhouse, gaol, whipping, the 
hulks. Botany Bay, the gallows. 

Jack — After this, I would ask again, whether 
society is not prepared for a bill, the principles of 
which strike at the root of all these calamities ? 

Billa — But then, they foind fault we Bucking- 
ham limitin't number a public hahses. 

Jack — O it ad mak em mooar respectable, an 
less liable to encourage drunkenness ; an besoide, 
we shud happen get ale we not quoite so menny 
trim m ins in. 

Tom — Wot dusta meean be trimmins e ale ? o 
near heeard tell a that befooar. 

Jack — O thah should ha heeard Pollard when 
he wor here, an then thah'd a knone wot trimmins 
wor : but o'l tell the wot he sed. Won a these torn 
an jerry chaps sent a note to a druggist for 
(trimmins for two pecks of malt. The druggist sent 
wot he thought was the order, an the man brewed, 
an he gave't grains to two fat pigs, which killed em 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 115 

booath. The man went tot druggist an tell'd him 
he must a sent him wrong stuff, fort grains had 
poisoned his pigs. The druggist look't at the note, 
and found he had given him trimmins for two packs 
of malt instead of two pecks. Eighteen penneth a 
trimmins al mak as much ale as a seek a malt ; an 
this is home-brew'd ale. 

Tom — ^An wots trimmins prethe ? 

Jack — Henbane seed, grains a paradise, vitriol, 
opium, tobacco, an sitch loik poisonous stuff. O 
kno a woman at sent to a certain ale hahse e this 
tahn for a j ill a ale, an it made her so drunk at her 
husband wor fooast to help her up stairs to bed. 

BiL — See thee, Tom, here'st comforts of a 
drunken man, here, copied from the window of J. 
Nicholson, Bolton, a reformed drmikard. " A 
weary body, bitter belchings, red and inflamed eyes, 
very drowsy, headache, dry lips, parched throat, 
little appetite, wants some ale or spirits, no money, 
credit gone, landlady very saucy, wife crying — now 
scolding — then swearing, children dirty, fire low, 
shivering with cold, shop bill not paid, clothes 
pawned, employment lost, character gone, cannot 
face the overseers, no demand for soldiers, neither 
money nor clothes to tramp with, no resource but 
these — a rope, a knife, or a pit." 

Tom — Well, he's miserable enuff, o'm sum. 
Wot fools we are to bring all this misery on us 
sens fort sake a ale; but o'l join't Temperance 
Society before o'm a day ouder. 

BiLLA — Will ta be a tee-totaler, Tom ? 

Harra — he's not prepared for a tee-totaler, 
he'd better soign't moderate pledge, an then he can 
ha a point when he \oiks. 



116 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

JooA — Aye, to be sure, he mun ha wot al do 
him good ; he dus nt need to ^ei drunk, yo kno'ne. 

Jack Swallow — He would be soft to be a tee- 
totaler; besoide its not a loikla thing at a chap 
wots been yu'st to have ale ivvera day, an get drunk 
every week, could leave it off all at once ; it's not 
practicable. 

BiLLA — Nou, nou, it al be troin to do ta much 
at wonce. 

Tom — 01 tell yo wot o think abaht it : o think 
o nivver felt better prepared for it e all me life, for ; 
o feel quoite determined nivver to taste owt onna 
more at al mak me drunk. 

BiL — Stick to that, oud lad, an thah'l be a 
happy man. Let " Never touch, lads," be the 
motto. A firm resolution and perseverance is all 
at's necessary to prepare a drunkard for a tee-totaler. 
Hundreds have had sitch resolutions, an hundreds 
are enjoying 't benefits on it nah, an whoy not 
thee ? 

Jack — Thah mut just as weel ask an habitual 
drunkard to get drunk agean, as to ask him to 
soign*t moderate pledge. This is just such like 
jargon as is browt agean Mr. Buckinghim's bill. 

BiL — O believe e me very soul, at that bill, if 
pass*d into a law, together wit exertions at Tem- 
peiance Societies, ad produce mooar happiness e 
this cuntra, nor onna bill ats passed t* Hahce a 
Commons fort last century. 



117 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



THE TEMPERANCE CHRONICLE. 

No. in. 



BiL Heftpoip — Nah, Jack, hah are ta, o hooap 
thaht better after the journey; hah dusta loik Ciee- 
thorps ? 

Jack Wheelswarf — O, o'm a gud deal belter, 
lad, an o loik Cleethorps rarela ; it's a proime 
place to gooa too; cockles grows there, mun ; o 
think we get aboon a peck t* same day o get there. 

BiL — What cooach did ta gooa by ? 

Jack — Whoy, thah'd na kashon to ax sitch a 
queshton as that ; be't Red Rover, to be sure ; o'st 
near gooa we nobbada else but Dan ; he'st best an't 
steddiest droiver uppat looad, an besoide, o near 
seed him drunk e me loife, an he's awlis so cheerful 
an civil anole. 

BiL — Aye, o believe hd*s a varra stedda droiver, 
an a sober chap anole, an that's what he's loik't for. 

Jack — Hah s temperance chaps gerrin on, dusta 
kno ? 

f3 



118 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

BiL — rarela ; but woi dusta think ? thear's 
sum a these drunken politishons tells us, as if it 
worn't for't public hahses, we shud be all kept e 
ignorance, becos it's thear they hear'n all ther news. 
They're sharp ans, arnt they ? Nah, suppooas 
they read a daily paper, an spend sixpence a neet, 
that ad be three shillin a week ; but if ioive on era 
ad join, they mut have a paper for a penny a neet, 
that ad be hofe a crahn less nor if they went tot 
alehass, an it ad save em't trouble a gettin drunk 
anole. 

Jack — Here'st loif a Jooa Guzzle here. Bill, 
niuii e read it the ? 

BiL — Hah, let's hev it. 

Jack — (reading) -—The first thing that Jooa 
Guzzle can remember wor his being put e breeches, 
an t' second thing wor he get drunk at same day ; 
an after this his father us'd to tak him a walkin at 
Sundays, an call at alehahses to get a point a ale, 
an while he wor very young he became quite a 
drunkard. His father put him prentice to a tailor, 
an he wor a drunkard anole; an sooa booath't mes- 
ter an t' father an 't son wer all on em drunkaids. 
Jooa had six shillin a week for his board, which he 
regiiarly spent e ale, &c., ivvera week. When he 
wor just turned fifteen, he ran away to Lunnun, get 
a good place a wark, an here he spent mooast on 
his money we goin to balls an theatres, till his 
cloathes begun to be shabby ; he then begun a 
goin to alehahses, an sich loik low places. He got 
a foreman's place at two pahnd a week, staid abaht 
six year e Lunnun,^ an then ran away to Liverpool, 
where he cum throo: here he get married to a 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 119 

varra respectable lass, at wor uncommonly weel 
clooathed; but they had nt been married long be- 
fore he swalladem all, an then run away to Lunnuii 
agean, an shoo followed him. He staid e Lunnun 
this time just as long as he could get onna ale a 
strap, for, said he, o cud'nt turn't corner of a street 
but o met a ghost. He then ran away to Brighton, 
an tell'd a chap to tell his woif at he wor gone to 
Liverpool, an of course his woif went after him. 
In a bit a toime he left Brighton, an went back to 
Lunnun, but not findmg his woif, he set oif for 
Liverpool ; his woif determined not to live we him 
onna mooar, but his promises of amendment caused 
her to troi him agean. He then began business 
for his sen, an got so much trade that he employed 
two or three journeymen, bat still he would have 
his lush ; an one day he went we a friend to see 
his cousin, at wor a steward it Glasgow steam 
packet, where he got so beastly drunk that he fell 
asleep, an cud nt be wakken'd, sooa they sailed 
away we him drunk as he wor. When he wakken'd 
next mornin, he stared abaht him an wonder'd 
where he'd getten to ; he w^or in a snug little par- 
lour he thowt, but where he wor he cud'nt tell. 
in a bit, o avver, t' captain cum dahn--'^ Well, my 
boy," said he, '' do you know where you are this 
morning ? " '' No, sir," said he, '' that o don't." 
''Well," said the captain, "'but you are on the road 
to Glasgow." W^ell, thow^t he, o'm in a noist mess 
this time, for he'd fifteen soverins in his pocket, an 
lie'd left his men withaht their wage ; but, o avver, 
he thowt he mut as weel mak his sen easy, an 
mak't best he could on a bad job. In a while 



I'iO THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

they reached Glasgow, where he went ashore, an't 
furst thing at he lookt for wor a ale-ass, an he wornt 
long afooar he fun won, an in he went, got drunk, 
an some sober man picked his pocket of all his 
sovrins, and left him pennyless. In this predica- 
ment the mester turned journeymen, an went to 
seek wark, when he met we some of his Lunuun 
shopmates, an instead a workin, they all took to 
drinkin for abaht a fortnit, but at last Jooa tired 
em all aht : an sooa he set off an cadged his way 
to Edinburgh, and being a good workman he soon 
get wark. Here he begun to visit what they call 
singing houses, called free an easy, an being a 
capital good singer, soon formed an acquaintance 
vyilh the principal men. He was much noticed by 
the Earl of Falkirk, and he soon found means to 
get into the Earl's pocket, for he lent him a sovrin, 
and invited him to go out airing with him next 
morning; however he went into another part of the 
city that night, got drunk, an got his pocket picked 
of all but sixpence hopena ; with this he set off 
uppa tramp agean, an in a while once more reached 
Liverpool. He agean went to his friends an made 
many fair promises, an they assisted him agean. 
Well, he got on very well agean, but still he liked 
the lush, until at last he sold some cloth belonging 
to some gentlemen wot he wor going to mak some 
dothes for, an then he cut agean; he then went to 
Bristol, an from there took a varra long rahnd till 
he came to Shevvild ; here he got wark, an't same 
day he got su beastly drunk that the person where 
he lodged at would'nt have him in, till he wor 
persuaded be some of his friends. He continued 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 12 1 

to drink all that week) an when he could get no 
more, he popt his boots to raise more ale, an when 
he'd spent alFt money, he begun to work — at 
Sunday morning to be sure. At Monday he went 
tot shop, met one at men, axt him to gooa and 
have an odd point, but he would nt ; at last he 
consented, an they continued drinkin an odd point 
till ten o'clock at neet, an all't next day. And at 
Wednesday morning he went to his wark, an durin 
t' day one at men begun a toking abaht Mester 
Pollard's Lekter at Tahn Hall uppa Temperance 
an sich loik, an sed at hah he wer gooi«ig to ge 
anuther at Lancasterian School, an sooa Jooa 
ihowt he'd gooan hear what chap ad getn ta say ; 
an sooa he went, an the statements made be Mr. 
Pollard came we sich force to h.s iionscience, that 
he formed a resolution to soign*t moderate pledge, 
an sooa he did ; but, thowt he, if o tak won glass 
to do me good, o'st want two, an then thiee, an o st 
be drunk agean, sooa o'l have non at all ; an sooa 
he gev up drinkin altogether. Abaht a fortnit 
after this, thear wer a temperance tea drinkin in 
Brunswick school-room, whear Jooa thowt he cud 
loike to gooa ; but wat wor he to do ? he'd popt his 
boots, an his clooas wornt fit to be seen ; he'd 
no'ther money nor credit; o avver, he borrowed 
some clooas a won at men, an away he went to 
Brunswick School we a determinarion to soign t* 
tee-total pledge, an sooa he did, an's continued a 
steady man ivver sin. He soon fetcht his boots 
dahn't spaht agean, he bowt the clooas at he bor- 
rowed, an soon after he bowt an entire new suit, 
an then he paid all his ale shots off, an in a little 



322 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

time after this, he sent some money home to his 
friends, that they mut inak matters up we them 
wot he'd defrauded afooar, an nah all things are 
made comfortable. He's nah in his reight moind, 
an on Saturday, June 27th, he left Shevvild for 
Liverpool, where he is now living as happy as 
ever he lived miserable, an there's ivvera reason to 
believe at he is at present under very serious im- 
pressions. We will now ax these persons wot laff 
at temperance societies, wot they think abaht this ? , 
It is not a fiction, but real fact, an this is not the 
only victory which has been won bit exertions at 
Shevvild Temperance Society. Th ear's a chap 
wot's living e Shevvild at this toime, wot nivver 
had a hahce on his awn to live in afooar he joined 
em, his wife took a hahce directly, an all't furnitur 
they had to put in it wor two stooans, an they ban 
em it cellar nah. But he soon get some furnitur 
an- sich loik, an nah both him an his woife an 
childer are weel clothed an fed anole, an ther hahce 
begins to look respectable* This is another laurel 
for't crahn at temperance chaps. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 123 

A CONTRAST. 



Look on this Picture and on that. 



THE DRUNKARD'S HOME. 

A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE, 

[ Goes into the house reeling drunk, but has scarcely 
sat him doivn before the wife, like some fury, 
thus addresses him — ] 

Wife — A, thah clam-vengence rooag, whear's 
lb a wage, pretha ? 

Husband — Houd yer noise. 

Wife— O sbalmt lioud me noise, thah villand I 
where are we to get summai to heit, thinks ta ? 
Childer's hofe poined to deeath, an thah cares no 
mooar ahaht em, na mooar nor if they wer as 
menny dogs. 

Husband — Th — th — th — tha mun pop sum- 
mat. 

Wife — ^Wot have e to pop, scamp ? thah's tain 
all we han, long sin — its not a month sin ta popt 
bed clooas ; an last week thah run away vve little 
Bill's shoes and pawned them for a shiliin, an't poor 
little fellow {here the tears roll down her checks) 
has been forced to go barefoot. Look at him, 
unfeeling wretch, as ta art ! O wish ta were 
drahned e ale. Bui o'l see wot t 'overseers says it 
moning. 

Husband — Ge — ge — ge — ge — get us summat 
to heit, or o'st mak ya jump just nah. 

Wife — O would of o thowt it ad choke thee. 



124 THE SHEFFIELD I>IALECl?. 

Husband — Gooa an — [hiccup) — get sum a 
strap. 

Wife — Gooa the sen, ihah swine ! thah't ore't 
heead an ears e debt nah, t'grooacers had nowt 
this fortnight, an there's four pahnd on besoid : 
thah't ready for jail, an o wish ta wer in, an nivver 
to cum aht no mooar. 

Husband — Wot do o care ? fetch us summat 
to heit, er o'l nock y^r een up, ya . 

Wife — {In a passion) — O'l see the stiff furst, 
thah drunken swoine ! [ He strikes her — she gets 
the poker — he knocks her down — she screams mur- 
der — the children, almost frightened to death, are 
clinging to their mother- -the neighbom^s get up — 
call the watchman — watchman rattles at the door 
— cries of " He'l murder me,'* from within — the 
watchman breaks the door open — a regular scuffle 
ensues — the husband, with the poker which he had 
wrenched from the feeble grasp of his half-famished 
wife, and the watchman, with his paddle, fighting; 
battle royal — a few spankers about his ears, takes 
him off to the watch-house : the horrid scene is 
over : and all this is the effect of drunkenness! ] 



THE HOME OF THE PIOUS TEM- 
PERANCE MAN. 



Every thing neat and clean ; a handsome sofa — 
hair-bottomed chairs — carpet uppat floor it tut her 
room — mahogany chest of drawers it chamber — 
beautiful clock — oood feather beds — a full cubbard 



THE SHEFFtELD DIALECT. l25 

— a ratlin big ham an a flick a bacon hangs up 
ageant wall — a bag a flour up stairs, an a thumpiu 
cheese it cellar. They don't gooa tot grooacer, 
an say, '' West pay ya for wot we han to-neet ; " 
nou, uou, iheir's is awlis reddy money — they'll 
nivver to gooa it threeweek-street*^ — nivver bothered 
wit baileys — nooa rent bad — nooa customers at the 
popshop — nooa sittin up allt neet, waitin of a 
drunken husband — nooa nightly brawls to disturb 
the peaceful slumbers of pious neighbours — no cries 
of murder are ever heard here — no black eyes or 
broken bones — no ragged and half-starved children 
— no curses are exchanged between husband and 
wife, until oaths are ended with blows —no skulking 
in the house allt day of a Sunday, with a head fit to 
split from a drunken debauch the night before ! 
No, no! the father has three suits; one to work in, 
another for neets, an tuther for Sundays — his 
smiling wife is seen occasionally in a silken dress, 
and has lots a others laid by, but mind, they've 
nivver been to my uncle's : here are six young 
immortals, four of which go to school every day, 
and are not permitted to gallop the streets on a 
Sunday; but are neatly dressed in beautiful blue, 
and like as many little angels, are seen walking to 
the house of God, to mingle their praises to the 
God whom their parents have taught them to 
honour ; and at night the father calls them together, 
they read, they sing, and then the father prays, 
and they sweetly retire to rest. And these are the 
blessings of pions temperance ! 

♦ The court 



126 



TPIE SHEFFIELD DIALECT, 



THE GOSSIPS. 



^^ Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing/' 
says Solomon ; (but o reckon he ment if he fun a 
good an;) an sooa we're of opinion at a beautiful 
virtuous woife is just luvliest seet e all God's 
creation. When we think, for instance, of sitch 
splendid mind-stars as Mrs. Hemans, Hannah 
More, an sitch loik as them, w© actually forget at it 
wer possible for woman to do anything but please. 
O avver, we're quoite shooar at if we'd had ahr 
existence in a higher rank of life, we nivver could 
a believed one hofe a wot we're bahn to tell. A 
mother's influence in her family is universal ; and, 
therefore, if she be virtuous, her childer will be 
lovely,and she will be loving and beloved by all around 
her; butif she be a idle, ill-temper 'd gossip, wot loiks 
to moind other fooaks s business, and neglect her 
awn, why then its all up for happiness there; her 
childer will be clownish, ragged, an dirta; her house 
will be just loike a Irishman's wig, all in a uprooar ; 
her husband will seldom be seen uppen his awn 
arston ; an *^ woe be to the man that dusnt loike his 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 127 

arston next best to his woife an his woife best of all ' 
it wer better for him if he had ne'er been marrid.' 
Just think for a minnit of a poor fellow cummin 
hooam throo a hard day's wark at eight, or it may be 
noine o'clock at neet, his woife gon aht as usual, 
childer kicking up a row,foire ommast aht, an thear's 
no'ther a bit a sooap nor a sup of watter for him to 
wesh him we. Being completely maddled, he sets 
off tot alehass, an gets drunk ; and that's the conse- 
quence of his woife 's gossipin, As for us sens, we'd 
rather be exiled to Juan Fernandez nor be teed to 
sitch vixens as these. An as to toking abaht curin 
em, why, it's all fudge ; for thear's nooa fizzick with- 
in't raich a human skill wot can do it; an we think 
at when a chap's getn a idle, gossipin, ill-temper'd 
woife, his misery's just complete. Of all the dis- 
tressin objects which a depraved world can possibly 
present, the poor fellow wot's hamper'd we a crater 
a this sooart, has by far the strongest claims uppa 
ahr sympathy. We may pity the wretch, but how 
to advise we know not. Oh, says one, if o'd a woife 
a that sooart, o'd do't same as't tub thumper did — - 
o'd hoop her. O dear aye, nockin a woman abaht, 
an exchangin curses it seet an hearin at childer, 
anust have a gioriouslv happy tendency. Yes, yes, 
there's a rectifying influence e black eyes, adder 
say ! Nonsense ! the man wot beats his woife's a 
monster of the mooast monstrous kind. 

An sooa nah we'l introduce ya tot arston a Dolly 
Doolittle, whear yo'l see t' table an't chairs cuvver'd 
all o'er we dust, f sinkston full a pots an plates 
unwesht, t' asnook full a cowks, potter, tongs, scum- 
mer, an fender as rusta as oud horse shoos ; kettle 



128 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

uppat range end withaht waiter in, an a posnet it 
asnook; a chair here, an a stool tippled o'er yonder ; 
two candlesticks stannin uppat cornish we as much 
greeas uppat soides as ad greeas*t shoos for a munlh ; 
t'hahce floor just loikt inside of a chandler's shop. 
Dolla sits iu a oud rockin chair, wit bottom stufft 
we rags, her elbers uppen her knees, an her poipe 
in her cheek ; her cap's just culler of a dirty candle ; 
an her gahn, wot's unbutten*d behint's nooa culler 
at all. But wots't mooast disgusting of all besoide 
ist sicknin sect of her dirty heels throo't rents of 
her equally dirty stockius. Her chamber's j ust loik 
an oud clooas shop ; here's two or three squares 
aht at winda, into which oud rags are stufft : — 
in a word, ivvera thing booath up au dahn^s 
all confusion. 

(In comes Dinah Duhbletung.) 

Dinah Dubbletung — Yo'n not get'n cleean'd 
up yit, o see, Dolla. 

Dolly Doolittle — Now, wumman, cm shure 
here's na dooin nowt whear thear's a yung choild 
to nurse ; it's won boddis wark,o m sartin. Ra-lee, 
o'm nivver oiia me feet throo mornin to neet, an o 
fettle, fettle, fettle, an scrub, scrub, scrub, an o do'nt 
see at o m onna forrader. 

Dinah -W a, wumman, wot'styuse a fettlin so 
much ? a bodda's na better tliowt on for it. Han 
ya heeard at Fan Thrifta's bahn tubbe marrid ? 

DoLr.Y —Wot ivver dun ya tell me ! whoy, shoo's 
not sixteen yit. 

Dinah — Webbut t' muther says shoo's ommast 
noineteen ; but let that be as it will, it's true enuflf'. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 129 

becos had it teld me as a secret be one wot knode 
all ababt it, an o can tell ya whooa it wor, but yo 
mo nt say nowt 

D ILY — A, bless ya, nou, o'd be sorry to men- 
tion it. 

Dinah — Whoy, it wer Nanna Frumper wot teld 
me, but promist her o'd say nowt, yo knone ; — 
but shoo's here, whisht ! whisht ! 

Dolly — Nah, mo lass, hah are ya to-day, sit 
ya dahn an get a bit a bacca. Wen heeard a 
varra queer tale this mornin, Nanna, but o think it 
cahnt be true. 

Nanna Frumper — Wot's it ababt, preya ? 

Dolly — Whoy, they sen at hah Fan Thrifty 's 
bahne tubbe mamd. 

Nanny — Hah, mo lass, it's true enuff, yo ma 
depend ont. Yo knone they think at chap's a bit 
a brass, an sooa theyl tak't chonce whoil they ban 
it. O can tell ya whooa teld me, becos o kno 
yol say nowt ; o wud nt tell ivvera bodda, yo 
knone. 

Dolly — Wa, wumman, o shud nivver say nowt, 
not o, an Dinah wod'nt, o think. 

Nanny — W^a then, as yo'n booath promist to 
say nowt, it wer Sally Slutterdish at o get me news 
throo, an o'l be bun fort shoo kno's : but o'l call 
her in, an Mally Mendnowt anole ; they're booath 
gettin a bit a bacca. 

Dolly — O'm shure Fan Thrifty 's nowt at sooat 
as nointeen, becos shoos just age a ahr Jooa, an 

he's O they're here — sit ya dahn, mo lass ; 

tumt stool up, Malla, an get intot corner, an ma yer 
sen comfortable. 



130 THE SHEFFIELD DIAtECt- 

Dinah — Salla, were just tokin abaht Fan 
Thrifta gooin tubbe married ; ban yo heeard owt 
ababt it ? 

Sally Sldtterdish — A bless ya, hah its 
true enuff ; but o believe 't fath er an mother kno's 
nowt abaht it : it's quoit a sacret. But yo ma 
depend it is sooa ; is'nt it, think ya, Malla ? 

Mally Mendnowt — A dear, bless yei soul, 
its true enuff; for o heeard at booath't fath'er an't 
muther wants tubbe shut on her, shoos sitch a 
brute. 

Dinah — Wa, that's news, o awer, Malla; 
'muther tell'd me shoo wert best lass at ivver 
stept e shoo leather. But o say, Salla, hah did yo 
get to kno, if its a fair queshton, for o shud loik to 
kno all abaht it. 

Sally — Wa, wumman, o cud tell ya, but o 
shud 'nt loik ya to say at o've sed owt, becos yo 
knone we're naburs ; an o wudn'nt ma na mischief 
fort world ; but o believe it wer ahr Tom's woife's 
sister's husband's fath'er-e-law's brother's son's 
prentis lad's cuzzen, wot heeard say sooa, an he 
tell'd Jinna Howdnowt, an shoo teldBess Blab, an 
Bess tell'd Suke Slippy tung, an Suke tell'd oud 
Dame Wagjaw, ant oud dame tell'd Ruth Runa- 
gate, an Ruth tell'd me ; but its quoit a sacret. 

Nanny — Preya, Dolla, wot's becum'd a Lydda 
Luvgood ? shoo yus't to cum in an smook her poip, 
but o hav'nt seen her e yore hahee o kno'nt when ; 
hah is it ? 

Dolly — Wot'n ya been dooin, wumman, at yo 
ha'nt heard afooar nah ? Shoe's turn'd Mettodiss, 
choild ; here's a strange alteration in her, o'l up- 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. l3l 

houd ya. Yo kno'n shoo near yust to get up on a 
Sunday moning afooar noine o'clock, but nah shoos 
up be six, an'st childer up an drest, an's off tot 
chapel be eight. An as for prayin, shoos at it all 
along; shoo prays it monin as soon as shoo gets 
aht a bed, an shoo prays at noon, an then agean at 
neet; and shoo's at chapel as offen as ivver shoo can 
get at Sundays, an at class-nieetin it week-neets. 
An ^yot seems queerest, shoo's smittled ould Dicka, 
her fath'er-e-law, an set n him agate a praying anole. 
shud as sooin a thowt a ould Nickabore prayin as 
him, becos he awlis yus't to say so much agean 
em ; an o do'nt think at he wer ivver e o'ther chetch 
or chapel in his leif, with aht it wer at chrissnins or 
berrins, till latela; an nah he'd be no whear else, 
O do'nt imderstand these things reitla. 

Sally — Wa, o think thear dus'nt need so much 
to do abaht it ; if a bodda dees that wot's reit, west 
not be far wrang ; but for mo part, o dooant loik 
so much prayin an shah tin. 

Mally — O think Lyddas to hot to houd long; 
shoo mays to much an a thing on it. O think if 
abodda's honnestich, an sitch loike, thear needs 
nowt else. But Lydda's getn her bed, has'nt sha, 
Dinah ? 

Dinah — Hah, wumman, an getn abaht agean, 
an a noist consam it wor anole ; thear \^ornt a sup 
a nother rum nor gin, nor nowt but a sup a common 
ale for non on us. OVe no nooation a sitch a 
religion as that; yo ma sooin be as gud as her we 
all her prayin; shoo's no better nor shoo .shud be. 
O've heeard a good bit abaht her a latela; an be- 
soide, o sent to borrow a shillin on her t'last week^ 



1^2 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

an shoo pertended shoo had nt one to lend. It's 
noist religion, that, is'nt it ? it's noist luvvin her 
nabur as shoo luvs her sen, isiit it, think ya ? 
Shoo's nobbut relidjus for't looaves and fishes, 
not shoo, marra. An o'l tell ya anuther thing 
abaht her ; if shoo waint sware, shoo'l loi as fast as 
a horse can gallop; an shoo'l drink ancle when 
shoo can get it sloily, moind that; an o rayther 
think shoos no honnister nor't rest on as. Shoo's 
a foine scooar on wit Scotchman, a kno shoo has, 
becos Betta Longtung, mo sister-e-law, teld me all 
abaht it ; shoo's nowt but a 

All — Houd, houd, Dinah, shoo's cummin. 

Lydia Lovegood — Preya, Dolly, will ya help 
me in we this basket ? its rayther too much for me. 

Dinah — A, Lydda, o'm glad to see ya abaht 
agean ; dun ya feel pretta staht, think ya ? an 
hah'st lad, bless it ; its mooast loik it father a onna 
yo han. O'm glad to see ya lock sa weel. O'l 
carry yer basket, Lydda, for o'm shure yore not 
able; o wunder at ya troin, ; yore to veutursom, 
wumman, yo'l be gettin coud : whoy did'nt ya put 
yer cloth shawl on, an yer clogs ? Yo kno'n second 
bahts is war nor't furst, a gud deeal. Bless ya, tak 
care a yer sen. Hah's yer brest heeads, Lydda ? 
But o'l tak't basket in, {Exit Dinah and Lydia.) 

Sally^ — Wot a two-faced crater yond is ! o wish 
Lydda kno'd hah shoo's been blacking her. 

Dolly — Hah, wumman, Dinah's vana mallis- 
ful ; its all becos shoo wod'nt lend't shilling : an 
shoos a tung to desave the d — 1 his sen. But 
here's Betta Longtung cummin ommast brussen ; 
here's summut matter, o'm shooar. 



THE SHEYFIELB DIALECT. 133 

Betty Longtung— ^A, DoUa! a Dolla ! Salla 
Smooker s deead ! 

Mally — Bless me, Betta, "wot dim ya say ! o 
seed Jier it street nobbat yesterda, gooin for sum 
bacca ; but that says nowt, o hooap shoo's better 
off; shoo's had her share a trubble e this world. 
Its vaiTa suddiii too. 

Dolly — Poor crater, hevven rest her soul ! 
shoo wer a gud nabur, an as honest as days is long. 
But o believe Jonna's kild her; foroheeard em say 
at mnngle at he noekt her dahn last Saturda neet, 
becos shood smookt six ahnce a bacca last week. 

Sally — A that oud rascald ! o wish o had him, 
o'd cramt dishclaht dafin his ihroit sum nqet, for he 
awlis sleeps we his mahth woide oppen. 

Mally — An if shoo did smook six ahnce a 
bacca, wots that for a wumman at *' gees suck ? " 
{shouts) Nah, Ruth, hesta heeard at Salla Smook- 
er 's deead this monin ? 

Ruth Runagate — Nou, Malla, o m not varra 
loikla, its not ten minnits sin o seed her thro't 
rowlin pin at Jonna's heead ; sooa o think shoo's 
nother deaad nor fit to dee justyit. 

Betty — Wa, its a rare good job; it wer Jinna 
Houdnowt at tell'd me ; but o a wer o'l gooan see 
enah . 

Sally — A, Dolla, o seed Palla Paynowt yisterda 
at a chrissnin, we a foine silk gahn on, an sitch a 
bonnet, abaht soize an a cockle-shell, just stuck at 
top on her heead ; shoo did look sitch a cratiir ! 
all't street wer up to look at her. O kno'nt hah 
shoo gets all her foine clooas. 

Betty — Abber o can tell ya. 

G 



134 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Sally — Wa, o shud loik to kno vastla ; o cahnt 
get em, an o Ve as much cmnming in as shoo has, 
an rather mooar, an o hav'nt so menna mahths to 
fill ; its ray ther odd. 

Betty — There *s nowt odd ahaht it, not thear, 
marra ; shoo gets em at Scotchman, an shoo ne'er 
pays nowt whoile they put her it cooart, an then 
shoo'l happen payt furst toime, an in ahaht six or 
eight munths he gooas tot cooart to draw his brass, 
but he foinds shoo's paid nowt in; he orders a 
warrand aht, an that al happen be six munths afooar 
shoo gets it sarved on her : wa then shoo gooas tot 
Scotchman, an tells him at if he waint tak it be a 
shillin a week, when shoo's paid texpenceat warrand, 
at Billa shall gooa tot jail. T'Scotchman thinks 
he'd better have it that way nor thro mooar after 
it, and sooa shoo gees him a nooat to pay it be a 
shillin a week, an shoo'l happen pay wonce or twice 
an then shoo'l tell him he may put ber it cooart 
ageean if he loiks, for shoo knose it al be eight or 
ten munths befooar he can cum on her ageean, 
Wa then, he sarves a warrand for bodda or guds, 
an away shoo gooas to anuther Scotchman, an gets 
anuther lot, an sells them, or pawns em, an then 
pays off. 

Sally — Wa, an hah dust last chap get his brass ? 

Betty — Whoy, just same ast furst did, an shoo 
carries on a that way all along. 
• Mally — O wunder at Billa stans it. 

Betty— A bless ya, shoos't mester; Billa 
durs'nt say a word to her ; shoo'd pull his ears as 
long as his lether appron if he wer to meddle, or 
say hofe a wurd. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 135 

Dolly-— Betty, did ya obsarve wat a black eye 
Ruth Runagate had ? O wunder hah shoe's getn 
it. 

Betty— Whoy, their George geed it her: 
shoo'd been runnin abaht ommast all't afternooin 
one day, an in her hurry to get his drinkin off, 
shoo forgat to put sugar in tot tay ; sooa when he 
cum hooam at neet he mumpt her. 

Mally — Wot, for that bit ! whoy, o wonce 
kno'd Milla Muckythom send Job's drinkin it 
greeas pot, an he near sed a wurd abaht it, nobbut 
he sed he thowt it tasted plaguy naushus. 

Dolly — O think yore nabur Kitty Crafta, has*nt 
had na fits latela, has sha ? 

Mally — Nou, mo lass, Jonna Sharp cured 
her o fits; shoo'l near ha na mooar, not shoo, 
marra. 

Dolly — Jonna Sharp ? Whoy, wot's he kno 
abaht fits ? Hah did he do ? He's a rare doctor 
if he can cure fits. 

Mally — Whoy, o'l tell ya. Yo seen, one day 
Jooasa wanted sum munna for summut, an shoo 
, thro'd her sen into a fit directla, an thear shoo laid ' 
sprottlin uppat hahce flooar an Jonna Sharp 
happen'd to gooa in, an Jooasa teld him all abaht 
it, an he sed, o'l be bun to cure her, if yo'l let 
me troi. O'd ge owt if ya cud, sed Jooasa ; yo st 
troi, an welcum. Wa then, sed Jonna, fetch me 
a buckitful a watter, witta Jack. Sooa Jack fetcht 
watter, an Jonna took it an thro'd it all on to her 
as shoo laid uppat floor, whoil shoo wer just loik 
a drahnded ratten; an sooa in a bit shoo cum 
abaht. avver in abaht a fortnit shoo had anuther: 
g2 



136 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

sooa Jooasa sed to Jack, Thah mun fetch a buckit 
a waiter. Jack; it brings her abaht soonist of owt, 
Sooa away went Jack fort watter, but befooar he 
get back shoo wer as weel as ivver, an shoo's ne er 
bed one sin. . 

Dolly — A wot a crater shoo is! O wunder 
shoo isn't afeard a bein struckn deead ; but shoo'l 
ha no mooar, if that'st way they sarven her. 

Nanny — A, Dolly, oVe just unbethowt me; 
yore Sal's made a noist job on't ; last neel shoo'd 
loiken'd a set'nt hahce a foir ; shoo's made pratta 
wark wit flooar carpits ; o wunder hah shoo did not 
to set bed a foir. 

Dolly — Whoy, wut's shoo been up too nab ? 
liere's summut grand gooin off, o reckon. Shoo 
sartanla is won at idlest yung quaens at ivver rung 
a dishtlaht. 

Nanny — Whoy, mo lass, t' missis teld her to 
get twarmin pan, an warmt bed fort mester, bec-^s 
hes poorly; an Sal get pan an put foir in, ast 
missis teld her ; an when shoo get up stairs shoo 
did'nt kno hah shoo wer to ger it in tot bed ; shoo 
thowt it ad daub t' bed if shoo put black soid hot- 
tomest, an hah to ger it turned o'er shoo did'nt kno, 
O avver, shoo managed a sum hah, an got it intot 
bed wit pan lid bottomest ; an when shoo pulled it 
aht at bed, aht went all t' cowks ontot carpet, an 
thear wer sitch a bed an flooar as yo nearclaptyer 
eyes on. An as for Sal, yo ma judge wot sooart'n 
a mess shoo wer in ; for e scrapin't cowks up, shoo 
burnt her fingers in stoile. 

Dolly — Wa, ra-lee, o do'nt kno wot's to be 
dnn we her ; it's not so long sin't missis made sum 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 13T 

at noistest custards at ivver wor seen, an shoo hap- 
pened to tell Sal to put a bit a pepper on tot top on 
em, an ift soft an did'nt gooan put keen pepper in 
em all, an spoilt em ivvera won ; sooa o expect 
shoo'l turn her away nah. 

Nanny — Nay, nay ; Sal says shoo nobbut lafft 
when shoo teld her. 

Betty — Dun ya kno ha Jinna Smooker's choild 
is, Nanna ? 

Nanny — Whoy, mo lass, it's summat better nor 
it wor. 

Dolly — Wot*s been't matter we it ? near 
kno'd it ail'd owt. 

Nanny — A, bless yer soul, wumman, it wer as 
near beein burnt to deeath as mays na matter. 

Dolly— Whoy, yo do nt say sooa, dun ya ? 
Prey a, mo lass, had did it happen ? 

Nanny — Wa, wumman, shoo went aht to smook 
her poip, an left choild uppat flooar it care a little 
Bil, an Bil ran aht to play him, as childer will do, 
yo kno'n, an't choild gat tot asnook, (an shoo near 
has na fender dahn, yo kno'n), an it s thowt at sum 
hot cowks roU'd on to it frock, an set it afoir. But 
o avver, as luck had have it,^thear wer a man just 
gooin past at toime, an heeard it screeamin aht, an 
in tot hahce he run, an lapt a seek rahnd it^ an 
smother 'd blaze aht. 

Dolly — A, wot a marcy ! A, if it ad a been 
bont to deeath, o shud near a forgeen me sen, if o'd 
a been her. Malla, preya reik me them pud stock- 
ins offat uvven door, an let's see if they'r worth 
mendin. 

Malla — 0*d ne'r mend em, not o, marra; vol 



138 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT 

use as much wusset o'er em as ad fooit a pair; o 
ne'er mend non, not o, marra. — A, is that twelve 
o'clock at's struck ? if it is, o mun be off, for o've 
set'n watter on for 't broth, an nivver put'nt meit in. 
{Dolly's husband comes in to his dinner, and they 
all cut.) 

Husband — Wot, is'nt dinner redda yit ? 01 
tell the wot, o'l cleart hoil a yond set when o catch 
em in agean. Here yo'n been spendin all't forenoon 
e smokin an lyin an backbitin fooaks, an nah o've 
to wait a me dinner gettin reddy. Thah mun alter, 
Dolly, or we'st not toke as won. 

Dolly — Wa, mo lad, it's nooa yuse tokin ; o 
cahnt do no mooar nor e can. Wot can won pair 
a hands do, prethe, whear thear's a young choild to 
nurse ? O hav'nt strength for it, sooa it's nooa 
y se. An as for Malla an them, they had'nt been 
in aboon foive minnits, sooa thah need'nt say now't 
abaht them ; if, thah'd moind the awn wark, thah'd 
look as weel, o think, an not cum hooom to black 
me, when o'm dooin^t best e can. 



139 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT, 



THE GOSSIPS. 



DINAH DUBBLETUNG'S TAY DEINKIN. 



Scene — Sammy Dubbletung's parlour. Three 
old women with their feet on the fender, and 
their chins on a level with the kettle spout. 
Enter ^ally Slutterdish, 

Dinah Dubbletung — Nah, Salla, hah ahr ya 
wumman ? cum yer way forrad ; here's Betta an 
Malla smocking their poips, an Delia an them al be 
here enah. Its Fassen Tuesday, yo knone; we're 
loik to keep it up. Lig yer shuggar an tay uppat 
shelf whear Mally's is; yo'ne getn sum fat-cake, 
o see. 

Mally Mendnowt — O think there's a plaguy 
gret nois it street, is'nt ther, Salla ? 

Sally Slutterdish — A bless yer soul, there's 
been sitch a malak as yo near seed e yer loif. 

Mally — Then it's a rattler, o'l uphoud the.; 



140 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

for oVe seen meuny a won, an's been e menny 
anuther. 

Sally — Webbur yo'd a splitten yer sen ommast 
if yo'd seen em. There wer Sal Scratchem, an 
Bess Bluster, an Luce Luggem, an Nance Nip- 
keen, an Mogga jVlumpem, an ould Dame Kick- 
shin's dowter; they'd getn Muck Jooadahn it sink 
hoil, an they did pepper his hoid, as it owt to be. 
Moi stars, yo cud'nt tell wot he wer made on, for 
muck an blood. 

Betty Longtung — Wot's he been up to, made 
em sarve him aht that way ? 

Sally — Whoy, mo lass,, he's getn two looad a 
muck away, an he waint pay em ; sooa they sed at 
hah they'd have it aht an his booans. 

Dinah — An sarve him reit; becos o kno they'd 
depended uppat muck brass for a good fuddle to-day. 
O avver, here's Dolly, an Ruth, an Palla, an Milla 
Mucky thorn all together. Cum, mo lasses, sit ya 
dahn, if yo can foind owt to sit on. 

Mally — O say, Palla, yo lookn rather rakish ; 
wor ya up late last neet ? 

Pally Paynowt -Hah, wumman we went tot 
play, ahr chap and me; he popt his watch an bowt 
us two tickets ; but yo mo'nt say nowt. 

Dinah— Pooh! that's nowt; o've knone Till 
Ward selt bred to gooa tot play we afooar nah ; an 
o Ve getn a stooan a flahwer a strap an seld it mesen 
to gooa tot play we ; an wot's onnabodda to duo we 
that? 

Dolly Doolittle- An o kno'd a wummun e 
ahr oud naburhood wot popt all her smoothin-hoions 



$HE SHEFFIELD BIALECl. l4i 

to gooa we; but for me sen, o'd rather a popt em 
for sum sap. 

J) IN AH — m van-a glad to see us all together 
agean, mo lasses, an o shud be gladder if we cud 
raise a sup a brahn cream to us tay. Wot thinkn 
ya ? we're all on us a set a hard-workin wimmin ; 
an o think at a toime loik this its nowt but reit at 
we shud hav a sup a summat at's gud; yo knone we 
do'nt gooa tot ale hahce to enjoy us sens, ast men 
does ; we're smothered up it hoil throo mornin to 
neet, an hardla ivver goes twenty yards throo us 
awn dooar stooan, nobbut when we gooan tot pop 
shop. Wotn ya say ? o cud loik sum. - 

Dolly — An sooa shud o, Dinah ; its a rare 
whoile sin o tasted rum; a think o hav'nt had 
aboon a point sin't last liggin in. 

Sally — That's just to mo loikin ; hah much al 
doo, think ya ? 

Betty — -Abaht a quart, o shud think; let's have 
a good fuddle fur wonce ; ahr Bil's at alehass. 

Nanny Frumper— An sooa is ahr Dick. Pot- 
rer aht yer brass then, an Ruth shall fetch it. 

MiLLA MucKYTHOM — They tuk ahr's tot jail 
this mornin, yo kno'n ; o'm reit enufF; we'st have 
non a his noise to neet. 

Dolly— Marra, lass, but o have non, t' next 
thowt ; an o kno Dinah an Salla has'nt, becos o 
wanted to borrow sum to pay t'hoiways we, an they 
had non, no'ther on em. 

Mally — Webbut, mo lasses, we'l not be fast, ol 
pop are Jonna's Sunday clooas furst. Cum the 
way, Ruth, an bring a bottle we the. {Exit Ruth 
and Mally,) 



142 •THE! SHEFFIELD DIALECTt. 

Betty — T' oud lass is rare gam, is nt sha ? 

Dolly — Shoo is; bur o wud'nt have Jonna to 
kno for a troifle ; he'd mak t' oud lass sing small if 
he foinds her aht ; he's sich a savage oud Turk, 
O kno he wonce loiken'd to brokkeii her ribs for 
nobbut just gerrin a bit fresh. 

Sally — O Jonna al near kno, not be ; we can 
all pay us shares a Setterda neet, an ond Mally can 
fetch em dabnt spabt agean, an Jonna al near be't 
woiser. An besoid, as Dinah says, whoy cahnt we 
eiijoy us sens as weel ast — — Ello, here's Malla 
cummin back f wot's up, o wunder ? (Enter Ruth 
and Mally.) 

Mally— OVe saved me sen t'trubble a poppin 
Jonna's clooas ; o just unbethowt me o'd milk brass 
e me pocket for two munths milk ; sooa ol' ge 
Ruth that: sooa they may wait anuther week an be 
hanged to em. 

Dinah — ^Better an better : well dun Mally. 

Betty— dont think it is; for o heeard t' 
milkman say this morning at if Mally didn't pay 
to morn, at he wud'nt let her bev na mooar milk ; 
an then Jonna ad foind at thear wer summat 
wrang. 

Mally — Weel tbowt on, Betta, lassi. Cum, 
Ruth, thah'st tak his black coit ; brinkt bottle we 
the ; an thah mun get fore shillin on it, and then 
brinkt rum, thah knose. (Exit Ruth and Mally. ) 

Sally — say, fooaks, ban ya heeard owt a that 
book at summadis made abaht us when we wer at 
Dolla's that monin ? 

Betty — Hah mo lass, oVe seen it, an it'st 
mooast abominablest lois in at e'er o seed e all me 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 143 

loife. Its scandillas hah it gooas on abaht Delia's 
furniter: it says't sinkston awlis full a pots an 
plates unwesht ; an at hah't fender's awlis as rusta 
as oud horse shoes : an at shoos two candlesticks 
stans uppat comish we as much greeas uppat soids 
as ad greeast shoes for a munth : hut that's not 
hofe, mo lass; he owt tubbe ashamed on his sen. 

Dolly — Wa yo all knone that's a loi^ becos we 
hun but won plate an a oud crackt dish ; an as for 
sayint fender's rusta, whoy that's all spoite, becos 
yo all knone we ha'nt won at all ; an as for havvin 
two candlesticks uppat cornish, that's as big a loi 
ast tuther: for we'n nobbut won, an it awlis stans 
uppat celler heead ; sooa its summada wot bares 
us mallis, yore shure. Dun ya kno owt abaht him 
,wots dun it ? 

Dinah — Nou mo lass; o've seen it, but o cahnt 
mak it aht whooa it is ; o wish o cud; o'd pull his 
ears whoil they wer as long as throo here to 
Rotherham. 

Dolly — An sarve him reit anole; o wish all 
his hair ma cum off. 

Sally — Hah, an if he wor here, o'd pull it off— 
But here's Malla. O say, Malla, dun yo kno owt 
abaht that chap wot's written a book abaht us ? 

Mally — Nou, mo lass, but he's nooa wumman's 
frend, or he'd ne'er toke a that way. 

Milly — O suppooas he says at o sent mo 
husband's drinkin it greeaspot; an if o did, wots 
that to him, a chump ? a bit a greeas ad ne'er 
hurt him. 

Betty — O cud loik just to ha me will on him 
if cud ; wod'nt leave as much flesh on his face 
as ad bate a mahce-trap e ten minnits. 



144 tHE SflEFPlELD DULECt. 

PoLLT — O understand he's sed a gud deeal 
abaht me ; but if o noLbut can get to kno whooa 
he is, o'l ring sitch a peal e his ears as shall mak 
ivvera hair on his heead stan as streit as a May- 
powl, o will mo lasses. O'l Cooart him, an Scotch- 
man him anole. But here's Ruth wit rum ; cum 
lasses, ne'er heed him ; we'll have a gud bio aht 
to-neet. 

Dinah — Put sum tay it pot, an get yer bread 
butter'd, them wot has onna f ivvera won ahn y6r 
shuggar. Malla, mo lass, yo can dubble't chair 
dahn, an let Betta sit we ya at tuther end ; shoo's 
t* hevviest, yo knone, an sooa then shoo'l keep ya 
up ; o'l sit uppat creddle heead ; an Salla, do yo 
pull toud maidnin tub tot table, an put that piece 
a booard o'er it, an that al houd two on ya ; an 
Milla an Folia can mak shift uppat sinkston. Dolla, 
yo'st wait, an let's have a gud stiif eup't furst. 

Dolly — Lend's houd a yer tay then ; hah much 
munria put in ? o reckon o mun mak it good ; dun 
ya loik it masht furst ? 

Mally- — caren't whether its masht or oo't, 
nobbut look sharp an let's have sum. 

Dolly — Get yer shuggar into yer cups. 

Dinah — Let's put rum in furst. 

Mally — Hah, lass, doo, an hafe fill em. Betta, 
stuff sum shuggar e that lad's mahth, an stop his 
noise ; o wish thear wor no childer. 

Betty — Wa, wumman, it's varratoirsom, o kno; 
but wot can abodda doo ? we ban em, an we're loike 
to mak usbcston em. He's gettinhisteeth,wumman 
mays him so cross. {Just nah, heres a knock at 
door: Dinah oppens it, an a Utile lass cums in.)^ 



THE SHErriELD DIALECT. 14^ 

Lass — Muther, yore to cum hooam direcila ; 
t' Scotchman's cum'd, an he wants sum munna. 

Betty — Guth-e-way hooam, an tell hun o've 
newt for hmi this week. 

Lass — Abber he says he will have summut ; he 
says its aboon a munth sin yo geed him owt, an yo 
kuo me fath er ged ya a shillin 'tlast week for him, 
an yo near geed it him, an he says if ya dooant 
pay him summat, hel send me fath*er tot jail. 
Prey a doo cum hooam, muther, 

M ALLY — Cum the way here, lass. ( Mally whis- 
pers) Gooan tell him thah cahnt foind her, an ol 
gee the a hopena. 

Betty — Set off we the ; if he does send him tot 
jail, it al not be't furst toime he's been there. 

Dinah - If its nobbut a munth sin yo paid him, 
he need'nt to mak so much to doo abaht it. O'd 
raise aWt street abaht his ears, if it wer me. 

Mally — Theyre vast reddy to thro't jail e yer 
face, nah trade's so gud. Let him sue the, lass, 
thah'l not hev to pay nowt just yit. 

Ruth — Tak no nooatis on him. Dolla, teem't 
tay aht, lass. 

Sally — It dus'ntpahvver weel; bloitspaht,Dolla. 

Dinah — A, mo goodness ! but we're a cup an 
saucer short. 

MiLLY — Let me ha moine in a basin. Wot^s it 
meean ? it al houd sooa much mooar. 

Dolly — O think thear is'nt spooins anew. 

Dinah — There's two an a piece a one ; ya mun 
kale : but we'n a wudden an sum where. 

Mally— O, near moind, its hofe on't rum ; stur 
it rahnd we yer finger, its non so hot. 



146 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Betty — shud'nt loik yore Samma to cum just 
nah ; he'd kick up a rumpus if he did. 

Dinah — He'll cum non, not he, lass; he'll be 
fooast to work allt iieet to neet. This is proime 
stuff, lasses, is'nt it ? Betty, geet little an a sup ; 
it al mak him sleep wumman. 

Dolly — An are's is gon aht at tahn, it al be late 
or he gels hooam ; 't neet's us awn. 

Dinah — 0, its rare rum, Ruth ; where did ta 
get it at ? * 

Ruth — O get it at t' Madman's Arms; it'st 
next ale-hass tot Woife's Woe, at bottom at Heart 
Brokken lan€. 

Pally — Abbut thah shud a gon tot Blue Ruin ; 
they keep'nt strongest rum. 

Mally — Abbut theyn a sup a good gin at 
Beggar 'd Choild, just bit Sot's Corner, thah 
knose. % 

Ruth — Abbut it ca'nt be better nor this, o'm 
shure, becost landleddy geed me a glass, an o 
happen 'd to slap a sup uppa me appron, an its burnt 
a hoil throo, its so strong ; an if o had'nt a getn a 
sup a watter to it, o beleeve it ad a burnt me mahth 
aht. 

Mally — Cum, lass, o've dun; let's hev sum 
mooar. ♦ 

Dolly— Put yer creeam in, mo lasses. {Dolla 
teems aht*) 

Dinah — It al not houd aht, Dolla; yo'd better 
put a sup mooar watter in, an fill t' cups up, an 
then put sum mooar tay in ; yo can put it in we 
yer fingers, wumman, they wer made afooar spooins. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 147 

IBolla Jills up, an whoil shoos puttint tay intot 
pot, Dinah puts sum mooar rum e Dollas cup,'] 

Nanna — Mak haste we yer spuoin, Betta. 

Betty — O sha'nt, oVt choild to feed hevvent e ? 
Yo may ger a fork an stur it rahnd we that. O say 
Salla, let's taste a yore fat cake. 

Sally — Hah, tubbe shooa?, mo lass, tak wot ya 
loikn, yore awlis welcome to owt o have. 

Pally — They'regeri'in shuggartaa pratta proice, 
a bodda ca nt ger a bit at sevenpence a pahnd but 
its't culler a wheelswarf. 

Mallit — Hah, its awlis t'poor fooaks wot stans 
in for it. Hah dun ya loik yer tay, Dolla ? 

Dolly — It's warm it mahth, Malla ; it maks 
me feel queerish e me noddle, o think. 

Sally — Wot benah ! yo are a poor cratur, cahnt 
Stan that sup ; yo mo'nt dee nesh, wumman ; teem 
aht agean. 

Dolly — Put yer creeam in, mo lasses, an o'l 
troi. {Dolla fills up agean, an after anuther 
rahnd or two, an sum toke afs not worth nooatis, 
Dolla begins to look summat commickle ahaht 
t'oies.) 

Dinah — Cum, Dolla, mo lass, fill agean ; o 
think thear 1 be anuther rahnd; o'm near within a 
cup a this sooart; o feel ray ther mazy mesen, but 
let's finish it. 

Dolly— Sloik we will, we owt to have a sup nah 
an then, to keep us sperrits up, yo kno'n. 

[Dolly gets houd at tay pot, but her vision 
had sooa multiplied at shoo seed dubble ; sooa shoo 
laid houd at spaht e steead at handle, and liftin it 
o'er Betta's heead not varra steddy, a sup a watter 



148 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

dropt aht at spabt outo Betty's neck ; up shoo 
juiiipt offat end at chair, an dahn gooas out Malla 
backards, an kick'st table o*er we her feet. Dolla 
screeams aht murder, an nocks tay-pot soide aht 
agean't uvven door, in her hurry to set it dahn ; 
Salla floies to help Malla up, an dahn tumbles 
Ruth intot tub. Betta begins to black Dolla an 
tells her shoo cud'nt see t' tay-pot handle ; Dolla 
says shoo seed two. Here's a pratta sample a gos- 
sipin ; a van^a noist pictur it ad mak: table tip- 
])led ore, t'hahce flooai^cuvverd ore wo brokken cups 
an saucers ; a oud wumman laid sprottling uppat 
riooar we booath her elbers brokken, anuther rubbin 
her neck we sooap to takt foire aht; two on em 
pull in won aht at maidnin tub, but cahnt get her 
aht for laffin, anuther getherint pots up, Dinah 
settint table ant chair up ageean. Wa then, they'd 
haidla getn all't things aht at gate, an ther sens 
set dahn to get sum bacca, when a lad cums tot 
dooar. ] 

Lad — If yo please, is Malla Mendnowt here ? 

Mally — Hah lad, whooa wants ma ? 

Lad — Whoy yore Jonna's cum'd hooam, an he 
wants to kno where yo n putn his coit^ he*s bahn 
tot club. 

Mally — A, wot ivver mun e do ! he'll murder 
me, sure enuff, if he foinds me aht. 

Nanny — We'st beloik to foind sum brass sum- 
where, an fetch it back, or o'm shure he'l kill her. 

Pally — TelFt lad to tell him its it box lockt 
up, an at hah yo'n lost key. 

Mally — Abbut o left box lid oppen, an if it war 
lockt, he'd breik it oppen in a minnit. 



■ 1 



THE SHEPttBLD DIALECT. 119 

Dinah — Webbut yo knone, Billa Fretful's been 
berriiit woife this afternoon ; send him word yo n 
lent it him an at they'r gone to Rotherham ; 
tlieyV oud cranies, yo knone. 

Mally — That al do o'm shure ; an o'l gooa me 
sen. {Exit Malla.) 

Betty — Two heeads is better nor won, if they 
be but sheep heeads. But o say, Milla, yo wer 
gooin to tell us abaht yore Job ; he cum hooani 
drunk t'last neet, did nt he ? 

MiLLY — Hah, he did, an he wod mak me get 
him sum beef stakes an froi em ; an 'whoil o wer 
Iroin em, he fell fast asleep. Thinks o, o'l rig the 
for wonce, oud lad ; sooa o ate wot o loik't on em, 
an set rest away ; nobbut o dipt me fingers it fat, 
an rubb'd his lips we it ; an directla he wakken'd ; 
o want me supper says he ; thah's had the supper, 
says o ; nabbut o hev'nt, says he ; yebbut thah has, 
says o, feel if the lips is'nt greeasy ; thah's forget - 
ten, muu. Sooa he felt. Wa, says he, o thowt o 
had'nt had me supper ; but o feel hungry yet. 

Betty — Wot a flat ! 

MiLLY — Hah, an we're all flats when we're 
drnnk ! 

{Are reporter says at gossips got sum ale an a 
fiddler, an wer drinkin an donsin till after mid- 
neet}, but wot he saw an heeard mo'nt be teld 
just nah,) 



150. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



THE GOSSIPS. 



JONNA DOOLITTLE'S FORTIN- 



Scene — Jonrui Doolittles hahce. Dolly, in a 
foine silk hag-sleeved gahn, an a cap ive 
four or foive hows a ribhin in it, swimmin a 
stack a muffins an poiklets we hutter. Six 
or seven gossips we poips e ther cheeks, fixt 
rahnd a hran spankin moggana tahle, we 
a dashin tray full a silver-edged cheena, an a 
a cupple a hottles a rum it middle at tray. 

Nanny Frumper — ^Wot's yond fella shahtin 
at, o wunder ? 

Sally Slutterdish — He's croin papers sum- 
mat abaht a robbera an a murder. 

Mally Mendn. wt — Ralee,tbere'snooasturrm 
aht a iieets nah days ; whoy, oVe lieeard say at 
there wer a wumman stopt a Setterda be't Deep 
Cuttin we a set a villans. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 151 

Dolly Doolittle- We're nivver safe e these 
gi'et tahns, o*l be hang'd if we are : oVe heeard say 
at they robb'd her a three an noinpence. 

Nansy Weeple — Nowt at sooat, bless yer 
loif, mo lass ; it wer won pahnd three an noinpence ; 
for o heeard say sooa me sen, an them wot teld me 
lives at Attercliife. 

Sally — Webbut mo lass, ahr Jack's sister's 
husband's brother works at Blast Fmnish an o 
heeard him say at they used her scandilus, an at 
they took her market basket, besoide all her 
munna. 

Betty Longtung — They just did abuse her, 
aboon a bit ; for we'd Billa Rattlejaw e ahr hahce 
yisterday aftemoin, an o heeard him say at they 
took ivvera rag a elooas oifen her back, an broke 
her arm it scuffle. 

Nanny — An o beleeve that's true ; for there 
wer sum fooaks heeard her screeam aht murder; an 
o heeard say at they had murder'd her anole. 

KiTTA Covetous — Wa then, that maks wot o 
heeard say true ; for o wer teld at her bonnet wer 
fun uppat Canel bank a Sun da monin ; sooa they 
murder'd poor wiunman furst,an then drahnded her^ 
depend on't. 

Dinah Dubbletung--A, that poor cratur ! 
heav^en rest her poor soul, an may her ghost haunt 
her murderers till they getn fun aht, an a rooap 
rahnd their necks ! O heeard say they get her 
aht at Canel yisterda nooin, an at Crunner's 

bahn to gooa o'er her to-day. Dust kettle 

ommast boil, Dolla ? Cram sum chips under it, 
wumman, yo'n plenta. 



152 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Mally — think lass there's a stooan undert 
kettle ; get bellusses, lass, an blow it. 

Nansy — Yo do'nt need to inak so much to doo, 
for o'ln share Missis Doolittle al mak it boil as 
sooin as ivver shoo can; oni shure shoos varra 
koind. 

Dolly— Preya, Nansa, do'nt call me Missis no 
mooar; it's not mo name; o've been call'd Dolla 
all these years, an o think it's too late to be chris- 
sen'd o'er agean nah. Yo'st all be reit afooar yo 
gooan hooam, yo may wroite on't. Bring yer chairs 
tot table. 

Nanny — A, these is noist chairs ; o reckon 
they'r moggana ; they'r ommast to gud for com- 
mon yuse. 

Dolly — Webbut we'n none else; ahr Jonna 
{(ed a sovrin a piece for em won day when he wor 

hofe drunk kettle boils, o awer. Yo'st have 

a proime dish a tay for wont*e ; o'vebowt sum sitch 
tay as o ne'er seed afooar. We'n had menny a 
fuddle, but this shall be't fuddle a all fuddles. 
Popt gunpahder in, an ger it masht; an nah, 
lasses, weet yer appetoites to a hedge. Reich them 
puffcakes an poiklits offat range end, an doo justis 
too em. We'l have't best tay furst. 

Dinah — Yo'n forgetn't shuggar ant shuggar 
basin, Dolla. 

Dolly — A, mo lass, o let little Jack Kave his 
porridge in it, an he smasht it ; but o'l put yo't 
shuggar into this black porringer; wot's it meon ? 
' Mally — Nowt, lass, nowt ; if ta brings it in a 
panshon, its all reit, if ya get it. {Dolly teems 
lay aht.) 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 153 

Nanny— Its varra black, Dolla; yo n iiotpiricht 
it a tay at onna rate. 

Dolly — Hah, mo lass, ii'st gunpahders wot 
cullers it ; are Sal's missis near drinks nowt else ; 
an this is't best Dartford. 

Kitty — It smells queer, o do'nt kno hah it al 
taste. 

Dolly — Ii'st Dartford, o tell ya; yo near had 
non a that afooar. 

Dinah — O cahnt drink it, o*m shure ; an o near 
wor bet afooar ; yon made a mistak a sum sooart, 
for sartiu ; o do nt kno wot it tases loike. 

Dolly^ — It'st Dartford, mo lass, wot flavours it, 

Mally — Wa, lass, thah ma tak the Dartford to 
yore Sal's missis, an let her dart it, for o cahnt ; its 
a mess for a mad dog. 

Dolly — It's all owin tut Dartford, o tell ya; 
it's loike to be good, for it's strongest they had ; o 
think they said it wer thribble. 

Sally — Yo'n put'n sum salt peter intot pot, 
yore loike ; it's as salt as brack, an oh ! {shaks her 
heead) it's horrible — naushus ! 

Dolly — Wa, yo may'n a strange noise ore it ; if 
gunpahder is'nt ^ood, it's toirsom. O avver, o'l 
taste me sen. {Dolly tastes,) Wa, marra, if this 
is ther gunpahder tay, they ma tak it for me ; it's 
nowt loike tay. 

Nansy — Wot did it coss ya a nahnce, Dolla ? 

Dolly — Whoy, mo lass, o do'nt kno, becos a 
paid for all't things together, an d near lookt at it. 
Yo kno'n o axt for a pahnd at best gunpahder ; an 
he said. Will ya have it Dartford ? an o said. Hah, 
if its' best ; ah he said, It's strongest; an sooa says 



154 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

o. That's just wot o want; but he said, Yo mun 
tell em, they'l not need to put so much in as they 
doo at tuther ; an o said, Wa, o'st mak it me sen ; 
an he.ged it me reddy lapt up, an o thowt o seed 
him lafFjust then, but o taid no nooatis yo kno n ; 
but when ahr lass put it intot pot to mash, shoo 
said, It's varra small ; an o said. Hah, it's gunpah- 
der, but still o did'nt look at it. 

Dinah — Dartford — Dartford — whoy, that'st 
pahder at ahr Jack gooas a shoo tin we. 

Dolly — Hah, mo lass, he's tain me in this 
toime ; but bio me if o dooant bio him up when o 
gooa agean. But near heed, we'n plenty at tuther. 
(In curns Jonna Doolittle, rather mazy,) 

J CNN A — Naji, mo lasses, yo'l mak yersens cum- 
fortubble, o hooap ; if ya dooant, -it's j^er awn fault. 
O've browt ya a pahnd a srimps ; o kno Malla 
loikes em. Dolla, mo lass, fetch me a sovrin dahn 
stairs, weitta ? 

Dolla — Fetch won the sen; thah kno's whear 
they are. ( Jonna g its wot he wants, and cuts off,) 

Dolly — Nah, Malla, here's a spooin, help yer 
sen to sum srimps. 

[Oud Nanna had just shuvveld a spooinful into 
her mill, an wer lifting her saucer a tay up to swim 
em dahn her unaccahntable funnel, when't tail of a 
srimp get intot wrang throit, an shoo geed a coff 
wot made all't crockery dither agean, an't contents 
of her saucer wer conducted into Mrs. Wheedle*s 
face. But O moi stars ! sich a volley a hofe- 
masticated jumpers wer foir'd acrost table slap agean 
ther cheeks, loik a shower a grape-shot, at it made 
em stare loik stuck sheep. '' Raich me't tahwel," 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 155 

says dame Wheedle, "shoe's ommast drahnded 
me." '^ An shoo's hofe fiU'd mo cup we her nasty 
crickets/' says Sally Slutterdish. O avver, in a bit 
t'oud lass cum abaht, and went at it agean, an 
things went on pratta square, till they'd finisht 
abaht seven rahnds apiece, an then't tay things 
vanisht loik magic, an they wer all sat rahnd t' foire 
we a poip stuck e ther cheeks, befooar abodda cud 
split a thowt or crack a will.] 

Dinah — 0\e heeard em say at if a ipan's hairy, 
he's born to be rich. 

Dolly — Wa, an it's true anole, for ahr Jonna's 
as hairy as a woild man ommast, an is'nt he rich ? 
But yo'st gooa up stairs, an o'l sho ya summat at al 
mak ya think he is. {Away they all gooa up stairs. ) 

Nansy — A dear, a dear ! wot a hansom pair a 
bedstocks ! » 

Dinah — An wot a noist carpet ! 
. Sally — But a ! wot a pratta little picter ! an 
wot noist chimla ornaments ! O reckon that's sum 
lord, is'nt it, Dolla ? 

Dolly — Bless thee, lass, its ahr. Jonna's loikriess 
it cost him a sovrin that did, when he wer drunk. 

Nanny — An wot beautiful chamber chairs ; hah 
that's just sich a swing glass as o'd have if o cud 
aifooard it. Dolla, there's some difference e ycwie 
chamber nah throobe wot ther wor. 

Dolly — Hah, mo lass, we'n worn aboon twenta 
pahnd in it ; but yo knone we ban plenta. But luk 
ya here {oppens a drawer an brings out a bag we 
a hunderd sovrins in), here's shoiners, lasses! 
They want us to tak em tot savin bank ; but not 
sooa ; we'll keep em us sens. 



156 THE SHE! FIELD DIALECT. 

Dinah — Arnt yo afreead a nobboda robbin ya ? 
If o had em o'd hidda em it chimla, or else it pot 
hoil ; o shud be scar'd a summada takkin em aht 
a that drawer. 

Kitty— Them wot ad rob Dolla ad rob*t church, 
an o wish at furst thief wot puts ther hand into 

that drawer, at the d 1 may nip their fingers off 

befooar they tain em aht sgeean. 

Nansy — An sooa do o, Kitta lass, but o hooap 
nobbada al be so brazen 'd as to troi. Hah much 
did yo gee fort bed curtms Dolla ? A wot a grand 
harth rug and wesh-hand stand ! A, Dolla ! 
yore weel off nah, an o kno nobbada wot's mooar 
desarvin. [Four or foive gooas dahn.) Yo wer 
awlis best-natur'd nabar we had ; yo kno n o wer 
awl is fond on ya, an o wer awlis ready to help ya 
onna toime. OVe wesht yore floor menne a toime, 
hav nt o, Dolla, mo lass, an o'l wesh it onna toime, 
o will. {In a lower voice) — Will ya lend me a 
sovrin to get ahr Bil's clooas dahnt spaht ? Yo'l- 
near miss it aht a so menna, mo lass, an o'l pay it 
ya back, mo lass, duly ; yo kno'n o'm honest, an o 
kno yo awlis loikt to doo a good turn, if ya cud; 
o*st be varra thankful if yo will, mo lass. 

Dolly— Wa, wa, o'l lend ya won, but yo mo'nt 
s£(^ nowt tot tuther. [Dolla raiehes t' bag aht at 
drawer, an lends Weedle a sovrin, an puts bag it 
draiver below.) 

Nansy — Nou, mo lass, o wod'nt say a word ; 
we'd better be gooin dahn, or else they'l be thinkhr 
summat. ( Goes dahn. ) 

Dolly — Nah, lasses, wot al yo have to drink, 
rum or gin ? we'n plenta a booath ; or will ya 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALEOT. 157 

all have gin punch ? O intend ya tubbe merra 
afooar ya gooan hooam to-neet. Wot'st matter we 
Kitta ? Yo mon't be dahn on't, wumman. 

Kitty — O've gei'nt pain it stummack so bad, o 
can hardla bear. 

Dolly — Here then, just drink this sup a gin, 
an gooan lig ya dahn for hofe a nahwer, an ol 
powd ya, yo'l be better. Salla, takt candle an leet 
her up stairs, lass: o'm sony shoos badla. (Gooas 
grunting o ert fiooar ommast duhhle-foud. Salla 
leets her up, an leaves her.) 

[It wert seet at sovrins at made this covetous 
wretch badla ; an shoo had'nt been up stairs foive 
minnits afooar shoo begun a thinkin abaht fingerin 
em. Shoo'd thrown 't bed-clooas ofien her, an had 
getn hofe tway o ert flooar tot drawers, when her 
wish at the d — 1 ad nipt furst thief's fingers off wot 
went into that drawer, flasht loike leetnin through 
her covetous soul; an/here shoo stood, in a manner 
between her inclination an her conshence, as if 
shoo wer hesitatin wot to doo. O avver, her luv 
fort sovrins mester'd her better feelins. Wot a 
fooil o am, says shoo to hersen, to stan a this way; 
there's nowt to hurt me ; an ten or a duzzen al 
ne'er be mist aht a that lot; an besoide, wot bisniss 
had shoo to sho em us ? it w^ere nobbut temptin us to 
steil em; it al nobbut sarve her reitif o doo tak sum. 
Gooas tot drawers we her conshence flashin in her 
eyes, oppens it gently, (still thinkin on her wish,) 
puts her hand tot corner, where shoo seed DoUa 
tak em throo, thrusts her fingers slap into a mahce- 
trap ; off it went, an e hofe a jiffey her finger wer 
as fast as a thief in a mill. Shoo wor shure the d — 1 

H 



158 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

had houd on't, an shoo set up one at mooast hor- 
rable screeams at ivver wer heeard aht a bedlam, 
an tumbled backards, scar'd aht on her wits. Up 
stairs they all run, freeten'd to deeath ommast ; 
nobhada cud tell wot wert matter; but they all 
thowt shoo wor deead. But wot surprised em*t 
mooast wer to see a mahce-trap fast to her fingers. 
When Dolla came up stairs, shoo seed it anole, 
but shoo sed nowt. *' Let's get her hooam, lasses," 
says Dolla, *^ shoo'l be better when shoo gets there ; 
an when ya get back, o'l tell ya summat at al mak 
ya all stare aboon a bit." Sooa they get her hooam 
as weel as they cud, an left her we Nansa Wheedle. 
Sooa when they'd let n ther poips, an supt wonce 
rahnd, Dolla oppen'd sacret.] 

Dolly — Nah, yo knone, when we wer all up 
stairs, o sho'd ya t' sovrins, an yo all seed me tak 
em aht at top drawer, an put em in ageeau, did'nt 
ya ? {All says, Hah,) An yo knone Nansa 
Wheedle an me staid up stairs a bit after yo cum 
dahn ; an shoo wheedled me aht on a sovrin ; but 
ne'er heed that. But moind ya, when o put em 
back, o did nt put em it same drawer; for o put em 
it drawer below ; an havvin sooa menny moice, we 
awlis keep a mahce-trap it drawer ; an a happen 'd 
to put it exactla it comer where 't sovrins wor. O 
do'nt know wot i\ver possest me to put it thear; 
but it wor tubbe sooa. Sooa yo may depend on't 
that covetous crater wer bahn to stail em, an shoo 
get her finger it trap : an yo ma wroit on't, shoo 
tibowt oud Nick ad oud on her; for yo knone wot 
a dreadful wish shoo wisht. 

Mally — Its a judgment on her, mo lass, an 
nowt else. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 159 

Sally — Honnistis best yit. 

Nanxy — Hah, mo lass, an sooa it is. But its 
not furst toime, nort second, nort third, at Kitta's 
been fun aht e sich nasta tiicks. 

Dinah — Nou, mo lass, it isn't ; an o'l telJ ya 
wot, non loik Nansa Wheedle ; shooas ta much 
greeas abaht her for me. 

Dolly — Cmn, mo lasses, let's have summat to 
drink ; we'st get o'er all this ; an Kitta al nivver 
cum amang us na mooar, moind if she does. 

[Sooa they sat an smookt an drauk till twelve 
o'clock, (but they said nowt wot's worth tellin,) an 
it wer as dark as pitch ; an Nanna Frumper wert 
furst wot went aht ; an summada ad left pump un- 
lockt, an't handle stood streit aht ; an Dame Frum- 
per ran we her nooas bump ageeant end on't, and 
nockt it as crookt as Chesterfield steeple. Wa 
then, oud Malla wert next wot toddled off: ^' 01 
tak me poip wi me, Dolla," says shoo : *' Tubbe 
shooar, mo lass,'' says Dolly : sooa off shoo sets, 
braikst poip to a short an, an puts it in her pocket. 
Shoo had'nt gon far afooar her pocket wer afoir ; 
an thear shoo wor all on a smook, an just reddy 
for blazin, when, as luck ad hav it, shoo catcht her 
foot ageean a stoon, an being hofe drunk, or sum- 
mat mooar, shoo tumbled slap into a dyke at sum 
masons had made it sink; thear shoo cries aht, 
*'0'1 be hanged if o sha'nt be drahned." O avver, 
it happened at summada were just cummin past, an 
wer good enuff to tak her aht a pickle ; an bein a 
bit sober'd wit duck, shoo teld em whear shoo liv'd, 
an they taid her hooam. But wot pleased me't 
best wer Salla Slutterdish's job : shoo bid em good 
h2 



160 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

neet next, an wen shoo'd get'n abt intot air, it 
ommast fell'd her; shoo cud nt walk steady for her 
loife. An just as shoo wer bahn to turnt comer, 
thear wer a watchman fast asleep within a fooit of 
her awn door; an he wer just dreeamin at four 
men wer bahn to mump him, when Salla tumbled 
agean him we a sooat on a run tup, an dahn they 
went together. "Murder! murder!" croies he, 
"four to one nooa match." Abt cums Salla's 
husband ! " Wot's up? wot's up ?" says he; "oh, 
yo'n been nockin mo woif dahn, ban ya ? o*l four 
to one ya." Sooa he set a wollopint watchman. 
" 01 larn yo to abuse mo woif uppen her awn door 
stooan, o will, ya scamp." O avver, he set ofFloik 
a iampleeter, an for owl o kno he's gooin yit. But 
Missis Dubbletung catcht it twarst; shoo tumbled 
sum hah or another, but shoo cahnt tell hah ; o 
avver shoo managed to braik her arm. An sooa 
thai*st fruits a drunkenness.] 



161 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 

"UPPA AHB HULL .VESTON." 
NO. I. 

[From the " Annual" and " Fairin," published 1836.] 



Jack — O say, Bil, o Ve getn a letter throo Jonna 
Flatstick we a description a their wheel. Its a 
grand place, o'l ashure the ; mim e read it the ? 

BiL — Hah, lad, let's have it. 

Jack (reading) — Oud Friend Jack, — do'nt 
kno wot day at munth is — Thursday, o reckon. 
O thowt o'd just send the two or three loines to tell 
the a bit a wot ta art. It's abaht six munths sin o 
left yore wheel, an we'n near seen won another sin ; 
bur can tell the won thing, if o'd two as good legs 
an feet as thah has, o'd a seen the long sin. Thah's no 
thowt for abodda, or else thah'd a call'd at ahr place 
long afooar nah. We'n a proime wheel, ol ashure 
the, we a grand polished steeam engine, sixteen 
horse pahwer, made be Peels an Williams, Man- 
chester. At top at yard there's ahr wheel, an it 



162 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

center at yard there's a lot a steps wots leads intot 
chamber and garret; o*ert steps we'n a clock. Here's 
three heavy trows it bottom room wot they groind 
table knoives hi, an seven leet ans wot they groind 
razors an penknoives in ; it chamber aboon there's 
a room we ten trows a penknoife groinders, fitted 
up we dust masheens to ivvera trow ; an it garret 
there's ten trows, all razor groinders, we ivvera 
thing cumpleat for't wark ; an thah kno's there's 
mooar variety e ahr trade nor't tuther, an sooa 
we'nt mooast visitors. Thah'l happen not believe 
it, but we'n lords, an dukes, an dutcheses, an gen- 
tlemen an ladies a all sooarts ivvera week cums to 
see us, an they awlis seem t' best pleeas'd it garret, 
when they seen sum rahndin backs, sum ore houdin, 
sum glazin, sum buffin, sum groindin, sum lappin, 
sum jimpin, an sum polishin; an we all work away, 
an cares for nobbada. Prethe call oud lad, and see 
all the oud wheel-fellows ; they'l be pleased to see 
the, especially oud Charley. If ta dus'nt, o wish 
t* next toime thah feighs the trow, thah mah breik 
all the gallos buttons off. 

JONNA FLATSTICK. 

Jack — Nah oud chap, wot thinks ta abaht that ? 
O'st gooa an see em sum day. But o want to buy 
a gud mettle tay-pot : can ta tell ma where o can 
get a gud an ? 

Bill — Aye, o can ; thah may gooa to Wolsten- 
holm's it Park, an thah'l get a furst rater there : 
o've had won a their pots this seven year, an o 
think its na war nor when it wer new. An if ta 
wants onna a their Jarman silver spooins, an sitch 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 163 

loik, thah'l get sum proime ans ; they'r just caps 
wot kno's hah to mak em. But o say, Jack, they 
sen at hah Booany's risen ageean. 

Jack — Nay, man; they sen hes ne,er been 
deead. 

BiL — Abbut o'l not believe that ; becos o think 
at Booany wer made at same sooart a mettle as 
they mayn sum wimmin's tungs on : his ambition 
wer to restless to lig still sooa long. 

Jack — But thah may depend on't, Bil, if onna 
chap we a gud pluck, an sum millitary skill abaht 
him, ad cum forad just nah e France, he'd mak 
Phillip's crahn dither abaht his heead afooar long. 

Bil— An sarve him reit, a tyrant ! its his awn 
bringin on, an sooa let him takt consequences. 
See the. Jack, here's oud Savvage cummin with 
his big dog. 

Jack — Well, oud lad its all up we yer fancy 
dog-feighting nah ; there's a act passed for pre- 
venting cruelty to animals. Wot thinks ta abaht 
that, my buck, eh ? 

Savage — O they shant hinder us, an we'll 
feit em it spoit o ther teeth ; we can gooa intot 
woods whoile they're it Chetch. 

B1L--O then thah meeans to breikt laws a 
booath God an man at wonce, dusta ? Thah't a 
foine fellow, thah art ! An wot splits me, thah 
pretends to be varra fond a the dog, an yet thah 
keeps him for nowt else but to tortur him. Thah 
can Stan an see his eyes pull'd aht, an his flesh 
torn off be inches, whoile his yels an screeams in 
the most indescribable agonies, fills the varra sonl 
with unutterable ecstacy ; an ihah claps him at 



164 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

back, an thah shahts '^ Hey lad, shak him lad, leg 
him lad, throttle him lad,' ~- prethe wots he done 
amiss at he's tubbe massacreed a this way P Hasta 
fun it aht at the dog's no feelin ? Tf ta has, wa 
then there's two on ya wot has non. An thah 
says thah loiks him. Good stars, wot wud to do 
at him if ta hated him ? An thah calls thesen a 
man o reckon ; fudge, lad, thah't a mixture ; thaht 
a composition of man, beast, an devil ; nature 
has nt a name for thee ; thaht a savage of the 
most ferocious kind. A seet o't mangled limbs a 
the awn dog, even when writhing it agonies a 
deeath, nivver moves thee ; an yet thah loikes the 
dog, eh ? dus'nt ta ? O yore a proime set. 

Jack — O say, Bil o've offens wundered wot 
maks em have organs e Chapels an Churches. 

Bil — Whoy o can tell the wot a chap tell'd me, 
an o think it sahnds to sense or summat else; he 
sed at they wor used to droive Oud Nick away. 

Jack — Wa, if they'l do that they're just things 
wots wanted ; but hah can organ's droive him 
away ? 

B f L — Whoy becos he dus'nt loike sacred music. 

Jack — Hah dusta kno that ? 

Bil — Whoy dus'nt thah kno at Saul wer 
trubbled we a evil sperit, an as soon as ivver David 
struck up we a tune uppat harp, he toddled off 
directla. 

Jack — Aye, aye, but here's nooa organists nah 
wot can play as David did. But there's been a 
blo-up, in a orchester ; hasta heeard on't ? 

BiL— A blo-up ! whoy, there's awlis a blo-up, 
when they're all a playing. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 165 

Jack — Abbut this wer anuther sooart an a bio 
up. Tiiah sees, thear wer an oud Frenchman wot 
played base, an when he snufft candle, he awlis put 
snuff intot base, to mak it droi, as he said. An 
sooa won neet, when he wer bahn to plaj a parti- 
cular piece be hib sen, a wag of a musishoner put 
some pahder intot base. Sooa enah it wer toime 
for't oud chap to begin, an he snufft caudle, an popt 
it intot base ; but my stars ! it popt him intot pit, 
an blew his base into shivereens, au they all stared 
as if they wer stuck ; an weel they mut. 

BiL — Here's Jooa cummin. Wot'sthat ihah's 
getn, Jooa P 

Jooa — Whoy, it'st toper's creed ; mun e read it 
tlie ? 

BiL — Hah, just let's see wot he believes, o av- 
ver. (Jooa reads.) 

I believe e rum, gin, brandy, whiskey, ale, 
pooarter, and all other druukable stuff wot can be 
guzzled, 

I believe at every Englishman has a reit to get 
drunk hah he loiks, when he loiks, where he loiks, an 
we wot he loiks. 

I believe at nobbada,s accahn table for wot they 
dun, when they'n lost ther reason. 

I believe at ivvera drunken man's lost his reason ; 
sooa ivvera drunkin man may do wot iwer his 
drunken sen pleases, wethaht bein accahntable for 
it. 

I believe, therefore, at it's reit for a drunken man 
to insult ivvera bodda he meets, whether be neet or 
day ; an especially when he meets wimmin, to pull 
au bawl em abaht just as his drunken brains or 
his foul inclinations shall dictate. 
h3 



166 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

I believe at drunkenness is varra useful, becos a 
fellow can do things when he's drunk at he cahnt 
for shame to do when he's sober. 

I believe it's reit for a drunkard to sacrifoise all't 
cumforts ov his woife an family to gratifoy his 
drunken appetoite. 

I believe it's reit for a drunkard, when he wants 
mooar ale, an has no munna, to pop or sell onna 
thing he can get oud on, o'ther on his awn or 
onnabodda's else's : beco'st necessity o't case 
requires it. 

T believe at it's reit for onna drunkard to mump 
his woife when ivver shoo gooas tot aleass to seek 
him. 

I believe it's reit for him to mump her if ivver 
shoo sits up waitin for him at neet : wot bisniss has 
shoo to burn candle ? 

I believe it's reit for him to mump her when ivver 
shoo gooas to bed befooar he cums hooam : wot reit 
has shoo to gooa to bed withaht him ? 

I believe in the magic of drunkenness ; for if a 
man cahnt guvern his sen when he's sober, he can 
guvern a whole nation when he's drunk. 

I believe e black eyes, bloody nooases, cursin an 
swearin, singin an don sin ; an a riggilar flare up,s 
just wot o loik. 

I believe e parch'd throits, racking heead akes, 
droi tungs, flamin eyes, an foiry ncoases. 

I believe e rags, debt, an jail. 

I believe e empty pockets, empty cubbords, an 
empty bellies. 

I believe e starvin child er, heart-biokken wolves, 
lost friends, an insulted relations. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 167 

J 00 A — A varra noist creed anole. 

BiL— Hah; but wot is ther gooin off it relid- 
gious world just nah ? 

JooA — Whoy oVe been teld at there's twelve 
woise men foimed their sens into a committee fort 
suppression a christiannata e this tahn, an at theyl 
let onnabodda gooa in fort small charge a one 
penny, where theyl be accommodated we a s tannin 
seat for two or three hours. 

BiL — O^ then they're bahn to suppress christi- 
annata, an mak Christians pay for it, eh ? O, they're 
a benevvolent crew ! tweh'e on em, is ther ? han 
they horns on, thinkst ta ? 

JooA — Whether they'n horns on or nooa, o cahnt 
tell ; but o beleeve at sum on em cums aht at heeast. 

BiL — An wot's christiannata dun amiss, at its 
tubbe crost aht at book a loife ? is it becos it maks 
men honest ? is it becos it maks drunkards sober ? 
is it becos it maks whoremongers an adulterers 
chaste ? is it becos it bilds hospitals, infiimaries, 
dispensaries, an orphan houses ? is it becos it bilds 
free schooils an Sunday-schooils, to larn booath 
oud an yung to read an wroit ? is it becos it 
maks to menny benevvolent societies ? is it becos 
christiannata'st fahndation a all gud guvverment ? 
is it becos it encourages arts an sciences ? is it 
becos it's made England t' mistress at world? at a 
strooak, — is it becos it maks men happy e this 
world, an prepares em for happiness it next ? — is 
it for dooin these things at it's tubbe crush t ? 
Well, well, if they can bring us owt better, let em 
crush it. 

JooA — A dear aye, sloik they can ; we're 



166 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

to have uatur for a god, an reeason's to worship 
her. 

BiL — O hah ? we*re to have natur, are we ? wa, 
shoos a gud-iiatur'd oud lass ; yo may get drunk 
when ya loik, loi, sware, an feit when ya loik, 
ciieat an sheddle when ya loik, have as menny 
wolves as ya loik, kick em aht when ya loik, run a 
muck when ya loik, be o'lher rooag or fooil when 
ya loik, cut yer awn throit or onnabodda else's 
when ya loik, an this good natured god al near say 
wrang yo dun ; and as for reeason worshippin her, 
whoy, reeason worshipt a strumpet, an cut her 
fath'er's heead off, at French Revolution. 

JooA — But dusta kno wot these penny-a-week 
philosophers believe ? 

BiL — Whoy o'l tell the won or two things at 
they believe; they believe at its possible to per- 
swade al]*t men, wimmin, an childer e Shevvild, at 
furst joint a ther little fingers is cut off; 2nd 
they believe at its possible for a chap to bring a 
new set a laws into England, at nivver wor o'lher 
seen or heeard tell on afooar, an mak all't fooaks 
believe at them wert laws at they'd been guvvern'd 
by all their loife, and ther fath'ers afooar em ; 
an 3rd, they believe at wonce a chap perswaded 
six hunderd thahsand men at he'd led em throo a 
rivver uppa droi land, whoilt watter stood uppa 
heeaps a booath soid em, when at same toime they 
nivver no'ther seed't rivver, nor heeard tell a sitch 
a thing e all their loife. 

JoGA— Wa, o can do we a bit a soft, but if they 
can swallow sitch things as them, they're softer 
nor o've onna occasion for em to be. But there's a 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 160 

varra larn'd chap wot can read lattin's been provin 
at christiannata is'nt true, becost Egyptian con- 
jurors cud work merricles as weel as Moses. 

Jack — Aye, aye, but where did they work em, 
an how ? not publicly, nobbut befooar Pharaoh ; 
an they did em be enchantments, that is, be sleight 
of hand, just as't Chinese jugglers mak snakes nab ; 
an ther awn confession proves it. It sartanla 
seems monstrous odd, at these conjurors cud mak 
a big thing loik a frog, an a long thing loike a 
snake, an cud'nt mak a little thing loike a louse. 
An then, there's anuther odd thing abaht it ; if 
these magicians cud mak frogs an snakes, an turn 
watter into blood, hah wor it they cnd'nt turn't 
blood into watter, an kill t'frogs an snakes ? Whoy 
onna clahn can kill frogs, but Pharaoh awlis axt 
Moses when he wanted to be shut on em. It 
furst three a these merricles, these conjurors had 
plenty a toime to prepare for ther deceptions, but 
this fourt came on em rather to fast ; an then these 
magicians just prove all at we want; for they said, 
'^ This is the finger of God." 

J 00 A — Wa then this lattin-larnt man sed at hah't 
cattle wer kill'd three toimes o'er. 

BiL — Wot, he meeans to say at cattle were kill'd 
after they wer deead dus he ? If he'd been honest 
enufF, he'd a tell'd em at that word '^all" it 
Hebrew Scripturs is used in a limited sense e 
hunderds a places, an e all other languages anole ; 
it meeans at a great quantity a all sooarts a cattle 
wer killed. 

JooA — Webbnt one a these chaps says at they 
cahnt work merricles nah, on accahnt at improve- 
ments a masheenary. 



ITO THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

BiL — Dusta hear owt, Jack ^ ihah'l beloik to 
lig that intellectual musher abaht ther phosphorus 
nappers. 

Jack — Na, lad, there's nowt to feear throo a set 
a philosophical scavvingers like these ; there wer 
one yung chap bet all't lot on em one neet, an 
turn'd a Summerset laffin besoid. 

J 00 A — Abbut a chap teld me at there's one on 
em at's a better speyker nor Lord Brougham. 

Jack — Bless me, he's happen animated be Vol- 
taire's goblin ; but o've heeard tell on him, an he's 
a topper, o'l ashooar the ; he can prove as clear 
as mud at a thing can be and not be at the same 
toime. 

BiL — He's won at oud stamp, o hear; as Byron 
said, " When Berkeley said there was no matter, 
'twas no matter what he said ; " — o dooant need to 
apply it, o shud think. Has ta ivver lookt at ther 
heeads, Jack ? 

Jack — Nou, o hav'nt; but o durst wager owt 
thear is'nt a metaphysical skull amang em. 

B I L— Pre the propooas em sum new subjects to 
discuss, sitch as ta thinks they'r qualiibid for, we 
directions hah they're to be debated. 

Jack — OVe nooa objections, but thah kno's they 
mun be varra grave subjects, becos they'r sitch 
varra grave men ; o think e me heart if they'd nob- 
but wigs on, we shud tak em for cahnsillers. O 
yis, they'r varra gi'ave, varra serious, varra pious ; 
an they toke abaht morality we faces distended tot 
length of a fiddle. " O for a forty-horse power, to 
chant thy praise, Hypocrisy ! " Wa, then, as thear 's 
twelve a these woise men, o shall propooas twelve 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 17l 

woise subjects, sitch as o think worthy a ther grave 
consideration. 

1. Which is't south soide of a jackass, when his 
tail stans plum north ? — Nah, this mun be debated 
philosophically. 

2. Wot'st reeason at two and two mak four ?— 
To be debated mathematically. 

3. Hah far is it throot thirty-furst a February 
tot Wicker brigg ? — To be debated longitudinally. 

4. Which is't thick end of a thowt, when it stans 
horizontally ? — To be debated materially. 

5. Wot'st difference between a purple smell an 
a bushel a souls ? — To be debated metaphysically. 

6. Which at three animals is't stupidest — a kofe, 
a ass, or a atheist ? — To be debated comparatively. 

7. Whether thear's onna climate onna whear 
wot's coud enuff to freeze words together ?— To be 
debated freeaingly. 

8. Whether knees or elbers wer made furst, or 
whether they wer ivver made at all ? — To be debated 
anatomically. 

9. Wot solidity is ther in a vacuum ? wot cnller 
is ther e sahnd ? an wot weight is ther e darkness ? 
— This last to be debated gropingly. 

10. Whether t' north powl be made a ooak or 
hezzle ? — To be debated botanically. 

11. Whether it be ommast or all aht true at 
won a G.F.Bywater*s sky-rockets went slap agean't 
mooin tuther neet, an if not, why not ? — To be 
debated pyrotechnically. 

12th an last. — That this grave committee taks it 
into ther van-a grave consideration, whether it 
wud'nt be quoit e character wit rest a ther grave 



1T2 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

proceedins, to purchase one hundred shares it Joint 
Stock Lunatic Asylum Company, two or three for 
ther awn family use, an't rest to be seld to onna 
other grave men wot ma be idiot enufF to join em ? 
- — To be debated gravely. 

These, then, ar't subjects at o think sufficiently 
grave for't cogitation a onna brains wot's soft enuff 
to tell fooaks at they can suppress christiannata. 
But then, o desoir at nooa chap wot gets drunk 
shall discuss these subjects, becos he's not grave ennff; 
an o desoir at nooa chap wot's livvin we onnabodda 
else's woife, when he's won on his own, dus'nt 
debate these topics, becos a man at practically be- 
lieves at won an two maks nobbut one, cahnt be 
grave enn/F to give a reeason mathematically why 
two and two maks four ; an if there's onna chap 
amang em wot's kno'n tubbe a notorious liar, he 
mo nt meddle we em, becos here's nooa believin 
him when he spaiks truth : an sooaif these subjects 
is accepted o shall inquoir ther charracters, an then 
report progress. 

BiL — Them subjects is all aboon their compre- 
hension ; o'l bet a groat to a button-top at there 
is'nt one e all t'lot at can tell wotst reeason at two 
an two maks four. O've heeard on a Hoirishman 
at owt tubbe uppa their Committee ; he wer shooar 
he could thrust Church dahn ; sooa he puU'd off 
his clooas, threw em under t' Church winder, an 
went tot tuther soide to thrust, and when he came 
back, an saw his clooas gon, "Well," says he, "an 
be the holy St. Patrick, an shooar enuff, ya see, 
I've been fooil enuff to thrust the Church right on 
to me clooas." 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 173 

Jack — Just a reit an for em ! 

JooA — O wonce heeard tell on a Quaker sarvin 
one a these woise men aht ; they were travvelliri 
uppat cooach together, an this woise man had been 
makkin fun at scriptur for a long whoil, an thowt he 
wer dooin it ; an he thowt he'd mak a bit a fun at 
Quaker ; sooa he says to him, '^ wunder hah it 
wor at a little chap loik David cud mak a stooan sink 
intot joiant's heead; its varra wonderful, is'nt it ? '* 
'* Nou," sayst Quaker ; '* there's nowt wonderful 
abaht it, at o see on ; for ift joiant's heead wer as 
soft as thine, it ad gooa in easy enuff." 

BiL — Is that 't Sun Newspaper at tas getn? is 
ther owt ? 

Jack — Nowt but Railways an Joint Stock Cum- 
panies ; abodda cahnt look e nooa cornei',but here's 
a Joint Stock Cumpana meets us. 

J 00 A — Xhey sen here's lubbe a Joint Stock 
Bread an Flahwer Cumpana ; nah o think they 
owt too a had cheese anole. Wa then here's tubbe 
a Joint Stock Brewing Cumpana ; but we'l set 
Temperance chaps at that set ; they'l sooin sattle 
off we em. 

Jack — Webbut there's tubbe a Joint Stock 
Weshing an Manglin Cumpana ; that al just suit 
allt Dolla Doolittles, becos o reckon they'l wesh em 
an mangle em be steam ; then they'l want abaht a 
thahsand mangles joinenn, an abaht a hunderdmoile 
a clooas cooard spinnin, an abaht fifta thahsand 
clooas pins makkin, an t' oud Park al want sawin up 
for props, an here's a chap bahn to mak sooap aht 
a flint; an as for starchin and blueiUji whoy, that 
mun be contracted for. 



174 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

BiL — A dear hah, all t* word's a Joint Stock 
Cumpana. 

JooA — Abbut we'n not all shares aloik. 

Jack — Nou, it nivver wor sooa, nor it wer 
nivver intended to be sooa, if o mun prophes}? ; but 
o beleeve wot thah says is true, Bill; for we're browt 
intot world be Joint Stock Cumpanies* dispensary 
and chib doctors, and we're guvvem'd be a Joint 
Stock Cumpana, and when we dee we're put intot 
berrin grahnd on a Joint Stock Cumpana; an sooa 
its all Joint Stock throo one end tot tuther ; an 
here's Jooa here went tot Joint Stock Cumpana's 
church yisterda, an he says at he heeard an seed 
summat at he did'nt loik. 

BiL — Hah's that ? wornt sarmon reit for the ? 
or did'nt box a wissels bio aht enuif? 

Jooa — Yah't sarmon wer reit enuff, but it seems 
a varra queer thing to me at fooaks caWit get there 
at reit toime. Whoy, bless me loife, when fooaks 
gooas tot play, they're mooastla there hofe an 
hahwer befooart toime ; but here's a varra menna 
wot gooas tot chapels an chetches, wot's awHs hofe 
an hahwer too late ; sum al cum rattlin in we a 
pair a creakin shoes on, just when he's readin't 
lessin ; an if ivvera bodda cahnt hear em, they'l 
tak gud care they shall see em ; an sooa they'l 
bahnce reit intot front at gallara, just as if they 
wer determined to be soft ; wa then, here's a foine 
lady cums in, and nock nobbier runs up an dahn 
to foind her a seeat; won squints o'ert top at Bible 
at her; *^A wot a noist bonnet shoo has on," says 
anuther ; an sooa e steead a moindint lessin, there's 
hofe at fooaks starin at her foine clooas : j ust nah 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 175 

here's a choild begins a pewlin ; (that cant be helpt, 
yo knone) but then^ wots wa^;si ont^ t' muther 
offens fetches it a gud slap to mak it be quoit, just 
as if shood be quoit if onna bodda slapt her ; an 
wot's war still, shoo waint tak it aht whoil t' parson 
tells her, an then shoo looks weel ; o avver, shoo 
taks care to let the youngster feel her clahters 
befooar shoo weel gets aht, just as a specimen of 
her patience, yo knone : nah o do'nt want to hinder 
fooaks for gooin tot chetch we a yung choild, but o 
think when they begin a kickin up a noise, o'ther 
we laffin or blutherin, they owt to tak em aht, becos 
they can get no good ther sens, an they hinder 
ivvera bodda else abaht em for gettin onna. An 
then ther wer anuther thing at o seed at odid nt loik; 
there wer sum yung fops a won soid at gallara, an 
sum lasses at tuther, an they kept winkin an laffin 
at won anuther when he wer praichin : if o cud'nt 
gooa tot chetch or chapel, an behave mesen, o'd 
stop at hooam. But ther wer another thing at 
sartanla wor enuif to mak o bodda laff ; ther wor two 
chaps in a square seeat sat opposite won anuther, an 
they wer booath asleep, an there they booath wer 
noddin at won anuther, just as if they wer practissin 
which cud mak t' noistest bow; enah won on em 
wakkens, rubs his eyes, stretches his aims, an gapes 
a long I — I — I — om, quoit devotionally, yo're 
shure. — {Interrupted.) 

BiL — Just let me tell the, o knode an oud chap 
at wer wonce praichin to a sleepy congregation, an 
he shahted as hard as ivver he cud, " Foir ! foir ! 
foir !" Up jumpt one chap, an stares all rahnd, 
•' Where ? where ? where ? " says he, '^ E hell ! " 
says t' parson : but o avver, it wakken'd em. 



176 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

JooA — Webbut o dooant loik sitch things; o 
think it fooaks ad consider where they are, an wot 
they owt tubbe dooin, all this sooat a wark ad be 
dun away. If a chap cahni keep wakken, whoy, 
let him do as wen dun menny a toime; ge his sen 
a gud nip, an stan up a bit ; that al cure him o'l be 
bun fort. 

BiL — O say, oud chap, wot thinks ta abaht 
Buckingham's claims ? has he onna, thinks ta ? 

Jack — Whoy, to tell the t' truth, o think mooar 
abaht me awn claims nor his, an if o cud get moine 
thear'd be a sovrin or two for him; they n robbed 
him on abaht forty thahsand pahnd exactla; sooa 
if he has na claims, its a sattler. 

J GO A — Wot did they banish him for? o Ve heeard 
a deeal a toke abaht it, but o nivver cud get to kno 
wot he did. 

Jack — Whoy, he writ a bit a fun abaht an oud 
Scotch parson for neglectin his flock, just wot ivvera 
bodda else ad a dun. 

Jooa — Dusta kno whear he'wer bom ? sum says 
at hah he's a Hoirishman, but o thiuk he dus'nt 
look loik that breed no'ther. 

Jack — O kno whear oVe heeard say he wer born. 

Jooa — Wheal ? 

Jack — Whoy, at their hahce ; he's his father's 
son, be his mother's soide ; he wer born withaht a 
shirt, an cum intot world screeamin, sum whear e 
Cornwall, o've been teld ; but if la wants to kno 
onna mooar, thah mun ax him t' next toime he 
cums to Shevvild. 

Jooa — Hollo, thear's ahr Bess cummin; nah. 
Jack, thah says at thah can tell whether a chap ad 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 177 

mak a dacent husband be lookin an feelin at his 
heead ; prethe tell her whoile shoo's here. 

Jack — O've nooa objection, an if shoo'l doc as o 
want her, o'l wan and it shoo'l get a sensable chap. 

J OCA — That's just wot o want her to have ; if 
'm a ihickheead, o dooant want her to have one. 

Jack — Nah, Bess, lass, dusta keep middlin ? 
wot, thah cud loike to be mairid, o guess, cud'nt 
ta? 

Bess* — O'm e nooa varra gret hurra, not o, 
marra ; o think thear's a menna gets marrid, an's 
sooin hofe wonid ; chaps is o'er desateful nah-days : 
but still o shud'nt moind if o cud leet on a reit an. 

Jack — Thah't happen hard to please ; wot 
sooart an a chap shud ta loike, if ta cud have the 
pick? 

Bess — Whoy, aboon all things, o shud nt loike a 
chap wot gets drun k, nor o shud'nt loik a ihickheead; 
e shud loik a chap at ad moind his wark, we a bit 
a gud sense in his heead. 

Jack — Wa then ol tell the wotthamundoo; when 
a chap CUIUS to see the, thah num tell him to pull 
his hat oif, an thah mun measure rahnd thickest 
part on his heead, an if it dus'nt tell aboon eighteen 
or nointeen inches, thah ma uiak the sen shure at 
he's not all thear ; but if his heead's twenta-two or 
three inches, he's nooa idiot, at onna rate. Wa 
then, thah mun look at top on his heead, rayther 
towards t' back, if owt, an if it stans up in a sooart 
an a ridge, an thah foinds a gret bump just aboon 
his ear, an a varra low forheead, thah mun set him 
a gooin we a rattle, for if ta marries fcim, he'l sooin 
rattle thee ; he'l be as stupid as a pot mule, an as 



178 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

cruel as a Turk. But if these parts ar'nt as oVe 
said, thah mun look a bit hoigher aboon his ear, an 
if it's varra rahnd an full, thah mun ax him hah 
menna lasses he's deceived afooar ; he's as full a 
deception as oud Nick, an as big a thief, ten to 
won ; thah mun set him a gooin anole. An when 
ta sees at a chap's mooast brains at back on his 
ears, we a varra low flat forheead, an a low crahn, 
thah may depend on't, he's all animal ; he'l be a 
reggilar brute, guilta a ivvera thing wot's. bad an 
filthy. But if ta foinds a chap we his ears a rare 
way ofTen his forheead, an his forheead hoigh an 
bold, depend on't he's sum sense abahthim; an if 
he's varra full just aboon't top on his forheead, an 
not to hoigh aboon't ears, we two full corners a 
booath soides at top on his heead, an't top middlin 
full, that's chap, he's ivvera thing wot's good abaht 
him ; do ivvera thing at tha prudently can ta mak 
him the husband ; depend on't, if ta marries sitch a 
chap as that, thah'l be as happy as ta possabla can 
be e this world. 

Bess — ^Webbut if o wer to foind a chap a that 
sooat, he'd happen want to look at mo heead, an if 
moine wornt a reit an, o shud be na forrader, yo 
knone : o shun loik to kno wot sooat on a heead 
yo think o have. 

Jack — Wa, o can have a pratta guess ; pull the 
bonnet off. {Takes her bonnet off.) O can tell 
thee one thing t'furst look; if the ears had'nt 
been a gret way offa the forheead, an the forheead 
pratta full an hoigh, thah'd a been as stupid ast 
chap wot wanted to stop tide we a muck-fork ; 
but thah art a bit passionate sumtoims, arnt ta ? 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 179 

Bess — Hah, me fath er's been tellin ya ; but o 
dooant bear mallis, o'ln shure. 

Jack — Thah's a varra gud memmora, Bess, om 
shure, the eyes stans aht sooa ; but thah dus'nt 
tell all thah knows ; an if o m not wrang, t'soid a 
thah heead tells me at thah*s a bit a brass sum- 
where or anuther. 

JooA — Whoy, thah sees. Jack kno's as much 
abaht thee as o doo. 

Bess — Wa then, wot'n ya say abaht it ? 

Jack — Whoy, its mo opinyon at thah's a varra 
gud heead, an o doo rala think, withaht flatterin 
thee, at thah'l mak a varra careful, hard-workin 
woife. 

BiL — See the. Jack, heres t'oud fiddler cummin; 
sho him them accumpaniments a thoine, an let's 
hav him a bit. 

Jack — Wot, yore cum'd oer, o see; wot dust 
fiddle mend onna ? yo shud a browt it we ya ; o Ve 
an accumpaniment here o want ya to look at; its a 
varra gud an, an o intend ahr choral concert chaps 
to perform it for a middle piece t' next oratore-i-o 
they han. 

Fiddler — O shud loik ta see it; is it in a 
major or moiner key. 

Jack — O, its a varra curious piece; but it cahnt 
be played nobbut in a oppen key. 

Fiddler — Wot toim is it played in ? 

Jack — That al depend uppa ther feelin, but o 
think they'l play it e quick common toime, or 
summat a that. 

Fiddler — Cum then, mo lad, o hooap thah't 
gooin to let's see it. 



180 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack — Wa, here it is, an o'l warrand it tiibbe't 
best accumpaniment at ivver yo seed for a raiddle 
piece. 

Fiddler — (Shouts) — Houd the noise, mun ! 
tTurst two nooais is as rank a discord as ivver cum 
aht at nooas of a jackass. ,Its horrable mun. It 
begins we a sharp seventh, an ends we a flat ninth. 
Its impossable to play it. 

Jack — Just look agean, oud frend, e booath t* 
cliffs, an tell ust names at nooats. 

Fiddler — Om shure its wrang; thah ma see 
that the sen ; thah dus nt pretend to say at B an 
C al cooard, dusta ? 

Jack — Webbut just tell us t'nooats, an o think 
vol foind at its reit, an at its a capital accumpani- 
ment anole. 

Fiddler — Wa, o can mention't nooats, but 
that al mak em na better. Thear's B, E, E, F, it 
treble cliff, an thear's C, A, B, B, A, G, E, it base 
cliff, an if onnabodda can play them together, 
oVe dun. 

Jack — That's just reit; nah o'l put it to onna 
musician it world, after he's been faggin at it for 
abaht two hahers, whether he wod nt loik to per- 
form that accompaniment. Bless yer soul, man, 
ivvera nooat's so varra savvora, at first seet on em's 
enuff to mak a fellt>w's chaps watter whoile he 
rooared ; it ad have sitch an effect on his feelins 
befooar he'd played ten minnits e quick toime on 
a oppen key, at he'd hardla ivver kno at he'd been 
olayin at all. 

Fiddler — O tell the nobbada can play it, 
no'ther e nooa toime nor e nooa key. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 181 

BiL — Spell it, oud lad. 

Fiddler — Wot, spell music ! {Looks care- 
fully,) O — 0—0, thah'rt there, art ta ? it's 
'^ Beef "an "Cabbage" o see. Aye, aye, it's a 
proime accumpaniment for a middle piece ; o cud 
loike to perform it nab van'a much; oVe a pratta 
gud edge on ; but oVe nooa daht but choral chaps 
al doo it justis when they perform it. 



182 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 

" DPPA AHR HULL ARSTON." 
NO. II. 

(From the "AnnuaV* for 1837.) 



Jack Wheelswarf — Nah, mo lads, we'n get'n 
tot shank end at year ageean. An o'm glad to see 
ahr good oud smooky Shevvild's in a throivin way. 
Yo seen we're gerrin on wit new Church it Park, 
an't Horticulieral Gardens, an't Symmetry swim- 
minla, an # expect we shall hev't Mechannicks' 
Hall poppin up enah, just loik a mushroom in a 
fog : an thanks to summada, we'n get'n a varra 
respectable set a police to shovel nusences aht at 
gate, for we'n had a gud menny at street corners 
latela. Wa then, it drinkin world we're improvin 
mooast amazingly, for they sen here's aboon seven 
hundred teetotallers e Shevvild nah, wot nivver 
drinks na ale, but o mo stars, they drink sum 
Samson :^ — an't kah keepers has raised milk, but 



THE SHEBFIELD DIALECT. 188 

ne'er heed ift Walter CumpaDa al nobbut let us 
hev't watter a bit tbicker it al mak proime porridge, 
an then t' kab jobbers al look as silly as Mester 
Bell did when he cum to represent She wild, an cud 
foind nobboda but a Tory to represent him ; 
nobboda dab ted quallata of his clapper; but his 
bell metal wer crackt, an sooa he cut his stick. A 
sum hah, t' radicals cahnt live here; there wer won 
cum abt at mooin a whoil sin, bur he fell sick an 
deed e quick toime; an sooa 't mooin 's left man- 
less. Nab then for subjects for ahr annual : 

astronomy's abt on us raich ; politics ad clam us to 
deeath ; metaphysics, there's na dooin nowt wethem 
withaht summat to drink to em ; an if it wornt fort 
temperance chap's consciences, we'd rather be hofe 
crack a bottle a hooam brew'd, nor crack us brains 
we unriddlin mataphysical impossibilities, an sitch 

loik. Hark ! 0, its sum gret big west cuntra 

fellow croyin blankits, we abaht as much music in 

his voice as ther is it squeeal of a pig when his 

lieeads's fast betweent bars of a gate. But we're 

not tubbe dun we that set; we'st spend ahr brass it 

shops where we kno they'l use us weel. O my 

stars an garters! Chrissmas is cummin, yo ma 

see, if yo'l nobbut look it drapers' shops, an sitch. 

Wot a sho abt a winter ware ! Lady's ruffs, an 

! muffs, an muffatees, an boars, wot raiches all o'er ; 

' an gluvs, oh my fingers! they ahr tight, an's stufft 

I we wool ; it's just loik thrustin yer hand up tot rist 

I into a feather poke nest: an as fort seize a ther 

shawls, just think for a minnit abaht main sail of a 

man a war; an Mackintosh capes wot al keep 

woind an watter abt soid passengers for a munth ; 

I 2 



184 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

besoid them gret big strong thick ruff bare coits, 
we buttons on summat loik a full mooin ; when a 
chap gets into won a them, he looks just like a 
walkin watch-box. Wa, then, to mak us cum- 
fortubble these coud neets, they'n stacks a blankits 
an bump sheets. — Aye, aye, all these things is 
shure soigns at we'n getn tot tuther end at 
year. 

Jug A Crocus — ^Abbut here's summat at ahr 
hahce wot lets me kno at Chrissmas is cummin. 
Yo kno'n we'n better nor hofe a dozen childer 
uppat arston nah, an they tak'n sum scrattin for, 
0*1 ashure ya : — t'last Setterda neet thear wer two 
pair a shoos to pay for soilin an heelin ; this week 
Ned al want a pair a new ans; an Tom's wants 
cappilin. 0*1 be chipt if a bodda can ivver gooa 
hooam this coud rainy weather, but thear's o'ther 
won or anuther on em pokin up ther little legs, — 
" Dad, me shoos lets watter in; mun e have em 
mended ? " Won at lasses wants a pair a new 
pattins, an anuther wants a pair ringin ; t'oud um- 
bereller wants mendin for ivvera day, an a new an 
buyin for Sundays ; an't childer's beds wants a pair 
a blankets ; an we foind bottom at coil heeap ivvera 
foive or six week ; an we burn a pahnd a candles 
extra; an its mo belief at childer heits mooar this 
coud wether nor they dun e summer. An o think 
these is varra serious soigns anole. 

BiL Heftpoip — Webbut thah says yon better 
nor hofe a dozen childer uppat arston ; does thah 
meean to say at yo n seven ? 

JooA — Nou, lad, seven's war nor hofe a dozen ; 
we'n foive at hooam, an won prentis at Cornish 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 185 

Place, t' biggest metal factory e all't world, whear 
they'l spin a tay-pot befooar a bodda can say Jack 
Robison. Thear's won chap wot works thear at 
yus't to play t corner cubbard for us at Chrissmas ; 
he'st best snuff-box makker e all't world, an o shud 
think he's made as menny as ad snuff all't nooases 
e England. An as for spooins, whoy they'n spooins 
for onna mahth throo a infant a span long to a 
Oirish giant wot cud leet his poip at a gas-lamp. 

BiLLA FoRKDDST — ^Whoy, thah teld me ihah'd 
twelve childer ; o avver, thah said thah*d four lasses, 
an ivvera won on em ad two brothers, an that maks 
twelve, yo kno'n. 

Jack — Ah lads, Billa ! reckon ageean, mun ; 
stur't foir up, Jooa. 

Jog A — O think he wants sum leet uppat sub- 
ject. — Jem, fetch sum coil. Hark the wot a woind 1 
it al ge em sum squat uppat H umber to neet. Jack, 
did thah ivver gooa to Lunnon be watter ? 

Jack — Nou, lad, o do'nt believe e bein sea-sick 
for eighteen or twenty hahwers, rollin abaht uppa 
deck, as if o did'nt care whether o lived or deed. 
O, says won, if ivver o set mo feet uppa land, hel 
be a foine feller at al get me here agean. Fetch 
me a bucket, croies anuther, we a face t'cuUer of a 
sheet. Its vast noist, that, eh ? 

JooA — O think there's not much fun in it; but 
then, thah kno's they're better at after for it ; but 
o believe thear's a good menna went to Lunnon be 
watter wot fun't rooad hooam agean be land. Here's 
Jem wit €oil : on we it, lad ; let's mak us sens 
cumfortable. For mo part, o loik winter't best ; 
a bodda can get sum readin dun nah ; yo kno'n we 



186 l^HE SHEFPtBiiD DULSeti 

can sit as snug as a button in us two-arm'd chaif 
after we'n dun us warls at neet, be a warm foir 
soide, an gooa we Captain Parry tot north powl> 
or we Franklin tot Copper-mine River, an sitch 
loike. 

BiL — O'm vast fond a readin travels anole, ian 
if o'd plenta brass, o'd travel me sen. 

Jack — ^Just tell us nah where tha'd travel too, 
if ta cud. 

BiL— Wa, then, o'l just tell the on a noist 
rahnd ; ant furst place at o'd gooa too after o left 
Shevvild ad be Heeley ; an tben to Lunnun ; wa, 
then, o'd get intot English Channel as sooin as o 
cud, an aht a there intot Atlantic Ocean, sail past 
Portugal, an turnt corner a Spain, au throot straits 
a Gibraltar intot Mediterranean; leeaving Mo- 
rocco an Barbary, an that lot, at me reit hand, o'd 
get into Turkey, an after o'd seen Constantinople, 
o'd tak a walk be land to Mecca in Arabia, an have 
a look at oud Mahomet's toom ; wa then o'd s! utter 
o'ert Persian Gulf to Ispahan, an throo Persia tot 
Indies, to Calcutta, whe'rt East Indy Cumpana 
ruin'd Buckingham; throo there o'd gooa into 
Choina to Pekin, where they heit dogs an cats, an 
get o'ert great wall into Chinese Tartara, an pop 
throo Russian Tartara, an Russia into Poland, 
where after sheddin a few tears fort poor Poles, o d 
get into Jarmanna, an then crost Jarman Oshan to 
Hornsea, an after stoppin a week at Bame Myas' 
to rest me sen, o'd ride to Hull, sail to New Brigg 
jump uppat Waterwitch, an cum hooam. 

JooA — Good an ! o think thahd want the shoos 
soilin. afooai? tha get back. 



IHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 16'^ 

Jace^ — O'd a cum'd hooamt back way, o avvert 
Wihoil o wer e Russian Tartara, o'd a gon throo 
Siberia to Nova Zembla, intot Icy Osban, an o'er. 
North Fowl into Baffin's Bay, dahn Davis's straits, 
intot Atlantic agean, an then to Liverpool, an 
hooam. 

JooA- -Aye, aye, it's varra noist gooin rahnd 
twurld bit foir«ide, we a poip stuck e yer cheek, 
an a tot a hooam brewed,— — Whisht ! whisht ! 
thah mun sing small abaht ale ; there's a teetotaler 
there. 

BiL— 'O say, Jack, thahs varra often sed at 
thahd summat marvellous to tell us when thah cud 
get summada's consent ; if ta's get'n it prethe tell 
us. 

JooA— Hah, he has ; an o've wundered menny a 
toime wot it cud be abaht : cum. Jack, here' a 
cheerful foir, an a cleean arston ; let's have it. 

Jack— . Wa, it's a curious consarn, ol ashooar 
ya, an nivver wer made public befooar ; but o've 
get'nt chap's leave to tell all abaht it ; an as me 
poip's just aht, yo'st have it, tot best a mo recol- 
lection* Accordin tot best o mo memora, it's nah 
aboon fifteen year sin this singular event took 
place. O shall ne'er forget it whoil o live, nor ahr 
oud lass waint norther. It wer i!y:on dark dismal 
dreary neet when a stranger made his appearance 
at ahr hahce, it mooast distresst and helpless con- 
dition possible; he wer barefooted an withaht 
hat; an o wud'nt a gen him a fardin for allt 
clooas he had on his back ; he'd had nowt to heit 
for menny a day, an he wor sooa wake at he 
rala cud ut stan. O sartanla wer varra much 



188 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

affected me sen ; but as for ahr dame, moi stars ! 
o thowt it wer all up we her ; it made her sa badla 
at they wer fooast to put her to bed, an shoo did'nt 
get better for aboon a week ; shoos varra tender- 
hearted, yo seen, an shoo'd a gud deeal a feeling 
uppa this occasion ! an for all this chap had been't 
cause a all this stur, an had made ahr dame so ill, o 
cud*nthelp but pity him, pooar fellow, he seem'd 
so innocent and helpless; o seed at a stare he 
wornt a impostor, an o seed anole at if he wornt 
relieved directla, at he soon be deead. Even mo 
woif, when shoo'd get'n o'ert freet, cud'nt help but 
freely forgive him all't injury he'd dun her, an wer 
quoite as willin at poor crater should be tain care 
on, as o wor ; an sooa we took't poor fellor in, an 
furnisht him we ivvera thing at wer loikla to mak 
him cumfortable. O'l uphoud ya, he wer in a poor 
dirta condition ; an sooa they wesht him, an get 
him sum clooas on, an offered him summat to heit ; 
but hah grievous ! he'd been so long withaht owt, an 
his nater wer so wake at he cud no'ther heit beef nor 
puddin ; if he'd a hetten a quarter of apahnd a o'ther 
mutton or beef, o believe it ad a kiird him ; an sooa 
yo knone they geed him a bit at a toime an offen 
a wot they thowt ad be easy to digest. Well, there 
wer rucks at uaburs cum in to look at him, yo're 
shure, an varra much they pitied him ; but ther 
pity nivver get aht a ther mahth into ther pockets. 
^^ Poor crater ! " said won, an *^Wot ivver's to be 
dun we him ?" said anuther ; but nivver a won on 
em browt him, nou not so much as a oud hat, or a 
oud pair a stockins, or a oud shirt, nor a single 
fardin ; an for all they kno'd at them wot gives tot 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 189 

pooar lends to the Lord, they'd non on em nowt to 
put aht : an here's a verra menna at same stamp 
yit. Well, they wod nt tak him intot warkas, an 
as for sendin him away we a pass, it wer aht at 
queshton : an yo may happen think he's a Hoirish- 
mau hecos ther wornt na parrishes where he cams 
throo ; but he is'nt, nor a Scotchman no'ther. O 
avver, booath me an ahr dame wer determined 
we'd tak care on him ; wa then, after a whoil, when 
things wer a bit sattled, ant poor fellah had getn 
wann'd, an his nater a bit strengthened we summat 
to heit, sum at naburs begun a tokin to him, as 
menny a won's dun sin ; an among other things 
they ax't him where he came throo, an wot he came 
there for, an if he wornt ashamed on his sen for 
distnrbin fooaks at that toime at neet, an wot 
countryman he wor, an wot wer his name, an a 
whooalheeap moor at o've forgetn; an strange to 
tell ! they cud'nt get a single word aht on him, at 
ad ge onna satisfaction. Wa, then they call'd him 
rascal, villan, rooag, an thretten'd to flog him ; but 
it all made varra little impression on him ; for he 
nobbut laft at em ; he did'nt seem as if he cared a 
rush for onna on em. But there sartanla wor 
snmmat varra queer abaht him : sumtoimes he wer 
vaira gud-nater'd ; yo mut a dnn or said owt to 
him ; an at other toimes, for all he ommast o'wd 
his loife to us, he wer ill-temper 'd past livvin we . 
an as to his religion, nobboda cud get that aht on 
him, an o believe me sen it wer hard to tell wot he 
wor : he wornt a Methodist ; for he'd nivver heeard 
tell a Wesley befooar : he wornt a Papist ; for he 
paid nooa respect tot Pope's supremacy : sum ma 
I 3 



190 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Iliink at he wor a Independent, but be womt ; he 
did'nt loik iafant sprinklin; an he wor nooa 
Baptist, for be detested duekin war stiL He paid 
mooar regard to birth privileges nor owt else, and 
seemed to derive naooar cumfort aht on em nor owt 
besoide. Wa then^ as to his person, there wer 
summat rather siugular abaht him : when he wer 
wesht an clooath'd an refresht a bit, he seem'd to 
have a verra pratta cahntenance ; he'd blue eyes, 
leetish culler'd hair, as though he wer young; but 
then he had no foreteeth, as if he wer oud ; o avver, 
his havvin no teeth did'nt alter his speech a bit ; an he 
wer as fluent, an as much an orator, as won can imagine 
a person loik him to be. He nivver spake, but wit 
strictest propriety; he mut a been spokken too o'ther 
e French or Lattin, an he'd a answer 'de o'ther on em 
as weel as in his muther tung. He wer varra 
much loik a traveller, us't to all sooarts a cumpana ; 
an nivver seem'd to be a bit bashful. He wer 
summatodd in his diet; he did'nt much matter 
meit, an though he wornt a tee-totaler, he'd nivver 
tasted ale e all his loife, an did'nt much matter it 
nah ; but moi stars ! he cud twist sum milk into 
him ; we wer awlis fooast to let him have his meals 
to his sen. O avver, we'n ivvera reeason to believe 
at he's cum'd offen a varra dacent fammala: an 
annabodda wot wants to see him may cum to.ahr 
hahce, an they'st be satisfoid. 

JoGA — Thah maks me stare. Jack ; does thah 
mean to say at yo'n kept him ivver sin ? 

Jack — doo, mo lad ; an o'm as fond on him 
nah as if he wer me own. 

JooA-^Webbut, consarnit, it's quear; o cahnt 



THE ^EIFIELB DIALECT. ^ 191 

get into it, reitla : hah oud wor he when he furst 
cum ? is he genin oud ? 

Jack — He's not thurta nah, an sopa h^e cud'nt be 
varra oud. 

JooA — ^An dus'nt ta kno whear he cum throo ? 

Jack — Whoy, h'es been caJl'd a Dutchman 
menny a toime, an sum's called him a Scotchman; 
but o'l ashure thee, quear as it ma seem, he's 
nivver wonce teld me whear he cum throo yit. 

J 00 A — shud ne'er a tain him in, o m shure, if 
it had been me. 

Jack— Abbut dus'nt thah kno at remembrance 
of a good action's sweet ? 

JooA — Hah big is he ? 

Jack — Hees not a big an; o do'nt think he's 
aboon foive feet an a hofe, 

BiL — Well, Jack, thah's set'n me fast ; thah's 
turn'd mo heead rahnd, o avver. 

JooA — O say, Bil, has thah that letter e the 
pocket wot Flummery sent thah dowter ? 

Bil — Hah, o have ; an its nooa fooil on a letter 
nother : o've seen summat loik it afooar, but not 
hofe so long. But shoo fun it aht, thah knose, at 
he loikt rather to much ale ; an sooa shoo sent him 
a gagger back agean it same stoile ; but o'l read it 
ya. {Bil reads.) 

Deae Love, — It is with much humiliation and 
prespiration and meditation and consideration and 
irritation and meditation and veneration, that I 
give you this intimation of the horrible agitation 
of my whole sensation; and though such r^re- 
sentation may possibly meet your disapprobation. 



192 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

yet it is my determination without further pro- 
crastination to make an early application for your 
delightful association, which to me would be the 
most unspeakable gratification. The estimation 
in which I hold your qualification, is my only 
justification for this obsecration. Believe me, 
Mary, there is neither dissimulation, adulation, 
fabrication, equivocation, falsfication, machination, 
affectation, precipitation, prevarication, nor sophis- 
tication in my communication. The contemplation 
of your immaculation fills my whole soul with 
exultation ; and your acceptation of my invitation 
will be an immediate extrication of my captivation ; 
and the delectation flowing from your capitulation 
will be a combination of consolation exhilaration, 
alleviation, annexation, and assimilation ; but an 
abnegation would be productive of consteniation 
and lachrymation ; and emaciation would be the 
fearful consequence of your alienation from my 
advocation. Dear love, such an indication of your 
disinclination to change your situation for my 
habitation, will be an obliteration of my meditation 
and an accumulation of lamentation without cessa- 
tion. Nay, excusation, even in moderation, would 
be worse than assassination. But shall I not hope 
that ere long deosculation with deliberation may 
be the attestation of our celebration ? Such a 
manifestation of your inclination would fill my 
imagination with irradiation. My suppheations 
and ejaculations are without calculation ; and I 
trust that your declaration with discrimination will 
be a corroboration of my expectation ; and then, 
i)h what sweet interrogation, without the least 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 193 

derogation to our mutual edification ! That this 
solictaion may be a stimulation to our approx- 
imation, then my anticipation will be lost in the 
realization of your consociation. 

Yours most affectionately in admiration. 

John William Thomas Flummery. 

JooA — Wa, he's a rattler, o avver; he's ransact 
Dictionary for all them, o'm quoit shure. But wot 
a foine oily tung he has, has'nt he ? — enuff to 
desave oud mucklehom de'il his sen. O'l be bun 
for it, he wer hofe drunk when he writ it. Cum, 
then, let's hear what shoos sed to him ; o hooap 
shoos gen it him reit. He has na names hardla, 
has he ? Wot a swell ! John William Thomas 
Flummery — moi stars ! wot a lot a mummery ! 

BiL — Cum, then, o'l just read ya her reply, an 
o think its a vaiTa gud an ; its jist sitch a won as 
he owt to have : 

Sir, — I received your annunciation, and I 
think there needs but little penetration to discover 
the fermentation of your cogitation, and the exag- 
geration of your observation. Possibly I may be 
the causation of your vexation ; for your explication 
has no temptation for me to become your relation, 
and I have no commiseration for your pretended 
deploration. My negation of your protestation is 
the consequence of the multiplication of your 
potations, which are no commendation of your 
prostration, but rather a deterioration of your 
affirmation. Your pretended adoration will be no 
acceleration to our amalgamation ; and believe me, 



194 fHE SHEFB'IELry BIALECT. 

I can only give you an adumbration of the detest- 
ation I feel for the creature who, wf>rse than the 
brute, is guity of intoxication. Sir, it is that 
cursed crime which is the cause of so much de- 
generation, accusation, altercation, calumniation, 
contamination, debilitation, defamation, deprivation, 
invocation, laceration, domination, disputation, 
desolation, violation, desecration, crimination, de- 
predation, molestation, provocation, and every 
species of abomination. With such a classification 
of imputation, I make no hesitation in the adminis- 
tration of this flagellation ; and I can assure you 
that no argumentation shall ever induce me to take 
your appellation; therefore your further application 
will only merit my declamation ; so your specula- 
tion will have a speedy termination, without any 
compensation : and you have now a demonstration 
of my execration of inebriation ; so that without a 
mighty reformation, and a good share of sanctifica- 
tion, you may save yourself the trouble of another 
oration. 

Yours respectfully, 

CASTIGATION. 

Jack — Shoo's gen it the little drunken scamp 
just reit. Hello, here's Jem's gronmuther we his 
drinkin ; let's ax t'oud lass if shoo wer at chapel 
t*Iast neet. 

JoGA — Nah, dame, hah ahr ya ? 

Dame — A, mo lad, om n oh but poorly ; but o 
cahnt expect to be varra weel at mo age; yo seen 
o'm turned seventy-won, an o've had a varra deeal 
a trubble e me loif, an a gret fammala, yo seen ; 
but oVe reeason tubbe thankful at o'm na war. 



THE SHErriELD DIALECT. 195 

JoOA — Wor ya at chappel t'last neet, dame ? 

Dame — Hah, mo lad; o shall gooa to't chappel 
whoil ivver o can crawl aht; mo religion's all'i 
cum fort o have e this world, mo lad, 

J 00 A — Wa, an hah did ya loikt parson ? 

Dame — O loikt him uncommon weel, o'l up- 
houd thee. 

JoGA — Cud ya understand all he sed ? 

Dame— Hah, mo lad, varra weel. 

JooA — Dun ya remember him makkin use at 
word metaphizzics ? 

Dame — O doo, mo lad, varra weel; its a blessed 
word, that. 

JooA — Then yo knone wot it means, o reckon ? 

Dame — A, bless the, mo lad, tubbe shure o 
doo ; it means at Jesus Christ's booath meit an 
phizzick. 

Jack — Well dun. Dame ! that'st best definition 
at ivver o heeard e all my loif. 

BiL — O say. Jack, o've a proime plate for the ; 
thear wer foive or six on em drest ther sens pratta 
smart, an went an axt a landlord if they cud have 
a proivate room for a day, as they'd a small parta. 
'^ O yis," says he, *' we've a beautiful room up 
stairs, an we'st be glad to sarve ya we onna thing at 
t' hahce affooards." Sooa they get ther dinners an 
tay, an a lot a drink; and when they thowt they'd 
had enufF, they call'd t' landlord up, an tell'd him to 
bring em a bill ; sooa he varra sooin did that, an 
for heitin an drinkin they'd £1. Is. 6d. to pay. 
Sooa they said won to anuther, '' Its varra little." 
" It is," says another, '' o'l pay it." *' Nah, thah 
shahnt, o will," said a third, an slapt his hand in 



196 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

his pocket; whoile a fourt, in as big a hurry, 
says, '' Nou, nou, o'l pay it me sen," An't land- 
lord lafft heartily; they'r reit ans, these, says he to 
his sen, they'n plenta a brass. " Cum, cum," 
says a fifth, just for a lark, o'l tell ya hah it shall 
be; t'landlord shall be blufted, an't first he catches 
shall pay all. Sooa they all agreed, an whoile won 
chap wer bluftin him, tuthers pulled off ther shoos, 
an set off dahn stairs, an aht at hahce they soil'd, 
an't last chap followed em. Sooa t' landlord's son 
seein em run aht a that way, went up stairs to see 
wot wer't matter, an he'd no sooner get'n intot 
room, but his fath'er ligs fast houd on him, — *'Yo 
pay, yo pay, yo pay," says he. Beledda, t' son 
thowt he'd been crazed; but when he unblufted 
him, an he seed his customers had cut an diddled 
him, O moi stars ! hah he rompt an stampt an 
rooard loike a tahn bull ! yo'd a thowt he'd a cut'n 
his throit, he wer so mad. 

Jack — Its a good an ; temperance chaps would 
enjoy ther sens ore that. But here, o'l tell the a 
tale, hah to meet sorrow. A woman went into a 
nabur's hahce one day, an when shoo get in, t' 
missis wer set in a chair it middle at hahce 
flooar, wit choild on her knee roarin as if her varra 
heart ad braik. *' Bless me," says't wumman, 
'' wots ivver't matter, Nansa ? Is't choild badla?" 
But shoo said nowt, but huddled choild to her 
breast, an blest it little heart, an then shoo sobb'd 
ageean. ^' Nansa, Nansa," said wumman, " wots 
ivver't matter ? yore ommast heart brokken." But 
shoo still took no nooatis, but prest little an still 
cloiser to her: ^' Moi pratta crater," says shoo. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIA.LECT. 19T 

** Is it badla?" says't wumman, ^'or has it getn 
lamed ? O dear, O dear, wot'st matter ? " ''A mo 
lass/' says shoo, ^'o wer just thinkin if that sauce- 
pan full a boilin hot watter wer to tumble o'er an 
scald this choild to deeath, wot a thing it ad be, ail 
all throo me wantin to wesh't dishes up." 

BiLLA — Wot, han yo heeard these lecters abaht 
wimmin, be wot dun they call her ? — wot's her 
name, Jooa? let's see; bless me, at o shud forget! 
shoo cums throo Lunnun, o think : wot a memra 
o have ! they call her Miss — Miss — Miss — 
consarn it ! Miss wot is it ? there's a parliment 
man at same name, o think; Miss — Miss Cold- 
well, is it ? nou, that's not it; o have it at me tung 
end: Miss — Miss — Bill dus'nt thah remember it? 
O, they call her. Miss — {scrats his heead) Miss 
— Miss — Mack summat, o think it is — 

BiL— Macauley. 

BiLLA— Aye, aye, tubbe shure, lad; Macauley, 
that's it : abodda awlis maks mooar misses nor hits. 
Han ya heeard her ? o suppooas shoe's grand. 

Jack — Wa, if shoo can do't wimmin onna good, 
bless her, let her cum ; but o shud loike to ax her 
a few queshtons abaht sum wimmin; — 1st, Whether 
it is'nt unnatterable for a young woman to smook ? 
2nd, Wot's a man to do we his woife when shoo waint 
be missis ? 3rd, Wots he to doo we her when shoo 
will be't mester ? 4th, Whether a wumman's onna 
bissniss to toke aht on her kale ? oth, Wot'st best 
thing for a woman to wesh her mahth aht we, when 
shoos dun swarin ? 6th, Wot'st reeason at sum 
women's tungs an consciences is booath a length? 
7tb, Whether it is'nt abominable to see a woman 



198 TUE SHEFri^LD DIALECT. 

come woipin ber mabtb aht an a gin -shop ? 8th, 
Which ist biggist plague to a man, a, scoudin>woifj 
a dirty woif, or a gossapin woif; an whether ther's 
onna cure for first withaht lockin her jaws, fort 
second withaht a pump, an fort third withaht am- 
putation. Nah, if shoo can ge us onna advoice 
abaht these things, we '1 groind her sitters for nowt. 
Ello, here's ahr m ester. 

Master — Has onna on ya been^to beo-T.t Spring 
street Philosophers yit ? O understa^d £^ttbey'u 
fun it aht at the devil isn't a loiar. 

BiL — Wa then, if that's true, o'm quoit shure the 
devil's best fellow it lot; but o think between the 
devil an them there's nooa< chpice, for they're all 
loiars on a lump. 

Master — I wonder what they would make of 
subjects like the following : l5t. Whether infidels 
do'nt hate the Bible for the purity of its contents, 
more than because they believe it not true ? 8nd, 
What is the reason that infidek love women and 
wine more than divinity? 3rd, Whether an atheist 
who ruins a female by seduction ought not to? be 
hanged ; and if so, how many are there m Sheffield 
that would swing ? 4th, Whether it would not be 
advisable for all the adulterous atheists of both 
sexes to form a colony, and live in common, like 
dogs ? 5th, Whether any other infidel in Sheffield 
can knock his kept Mistress's eyes up so philo- 
sophically as old • — did a few weeks ago ? 

name to be mentioned when discussed. 6th, Whether 
it is not reasonable to suppose, that if an atheist 
lives like a brute, he will die like one ? 

Biii — Well dun,mester; they're cloi^graia'd aps^. 



199i 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 

"UPPA AHR HULL .\IiSTON." 
NO. III. 

{From the^' Ammal " for 1838.) 



MATRIMONIAL DISCUSSION. 



Fair woman was made to bewitch ! 
A pleasure, a pain : a disturber, a nurse ; 
A slave, or a tyrant; a blessing, or curse j*—- 

Fair woman was made to be — which ? 



BiL Heftpoip — Wot, o say Jonna, thah't it 
bachelor's row yit, o reckon, arnt ta ? 

Jonna — Sloikoam; did ta think o'd lost me 
brains, an ad getn marrid ? 

BiL — Whoy thah sees, there's a menna quear 
things happens e these gret tahns. But o say, 
Jonna, wor ta nivver tutcht we luv ? 

Jonna — Hah dusta meean ? 

BiL — Whoy a meean, did ta nivver see a beauti- 
ful lassie, ast Scotch chaps says, ^' whose bright wild 
iniiocence, when her soft sweet lips were curled into 



200 THE SHEFI'lEliD DIALEdt. 

a smile," made thee feel as if thah cud'nt tell hah 
ta felt ? 

JoNNA — Wa, o believe o woHce felt rather queer 
abaht one ; but when o thowt uppat after claps, it 
went off. 

BiL — Wot, thah wer afreead thah cud*nt keep 
her, wor ta ? 

J CNN A — Thah sees, mun, o begun a thinkin 
abaht restless neets, liggins in, an liggins aht, doc- 
tor's bills as long as me arm, shoos an clooas an 
meit for hofe a duz 'n childer, besoid a gud deeal a 
trubble wit yung ans, an ten toimes mooar wit oud 
ans. Moi stars an garters ! sitch loike thowts as 
these freeten'd luv aht on me we a rattle, an oVe 
near been trubbled we it sin. O mun, o lodged we 
sum fooaks at that time, wot ad hofe a duz'n on 
em ; an o wor fooast to leeav em, they kickt up sitch 
rows, especially in a monin ; an o dooant loik to 
be disturb'd, thah kno's. 

BiL — Thah't a coward, Jonna ; but if thah wer 
marrid, thah wud'nt need to be thrustin't warmin- 
pan e the bed ivvera neet ; thah wud'nt need to be 
lappin hot bricks e flannel, to keep the feet warm. 
Ger a woif, mun, an then thah'l have a warmin-pan 
authorized booath be heaven an earth. 

Jonna — A, wot a tail ahr cat's get'n ! Billa, 
mo lad, thah says nowt abaht gerrin aht a bed in a 
coud dark frosty neet, we a weet shirt, to gooa 
dahn't stairs, to fetch't Godfrey bottle up ; — thah 
says newt abaht sittin up e bed it middle at neet 
for two or three hahwers, nuddlin't choild e the 
arms to cure it at belly-ake, an then gerrin aht a 
bed agean, slippin the britches on. an gooin dahn't 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 201 

Stairs to blo't for up, to mak a sup a gin punch for 
the poor little squeealer; an then thah taks him an 
rocks him uppai chamber flooar, an wakkens the 
next door nabur. O, it's vast noist for a fella to 
be singin, '^ Rock-a-boo-babby, lig still we the 
daddy," at two o'clock it monin, when he owt to be 
snoorin asleep. An besoide, all that is'nt t'warst ; 
— just nobbut think a gerrin aht an a warm bed, 
when't wind's bloin a reggilar hurrikin, an't snow 
drifiin enuff booath to bloind an berry abodda, to 
run whoil yer ammast brussen to fetch't doctor (as 
o've heeard em say t'next day,) an after a good 
deeal a rattlin at door, an ringin at neet-bell, t' doc- 
tor puts his heead aht at winder — '^What do you 
want," says he. O want yo to a labor. " To a 
labor," croies't doctor, " why, I have not been in 
bed more than half an hour. Where do you live ? 
— what's the name ? Very well, I'll be with you 
by-and-by." An then't poor fella wokes abaht, 
stamps his feet, rattles his hands agean his soides, 
enuiFto send his ribs in, — ^just to save him throo 
bein starved to deeath, O say, this is savvora, is'nt 
it ? — Cumforts a matrimonna, eh ^ 

BiL — A, oud chap, thah's a frosta soul ! Thah 
must a been bred on a hoiceberg, born in a snow- 
drift an suckeld we ickles ? Thee ivver toucht we 
luv ! Nou, lad, Cupid's shafts nivver went skin- 
deep inta thah coud coposition, not they, marra. 
But say, thah owt to be't last to say owt abaht 
gerrin up it neet. Hah menny toimes has thah 
fun thesen hofe starved to deeath when thah's wak- 
ken'd wit clooas kickt offa the ? A varra noist seet 
to see a fella bloin a foir up it middle at neet, becos 



202 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

he cud'nt get na heat into his hoicy carcas e bed 1 
An thah't trubbled wit neet mare, thah says. 
Good stars ! wot a pickle, for a chap tubbe e bed 
be his sen, strugglin under alFt horrifoin sensations 
at neet mare ! Sumtoimes thah sees a gret ruff 
felk cum in tot chamber we a dagger in his hand 
to murder the; thah troies to shaht we all the 
moit an main. Murder ! but toud mare has the fast ; 
«hoos lockt the jaws up ; an thah mak'st dismalist 
grumble, summat loik't rumblin of a earthquake, or 
summat mooar horrable still. Thah trois to get up 
an run tot winda ; but an enormous weight presses 
thee dahn. Thah sees this ruffin at the bedsoid ; 
thah sees him lift his murderous arm ; he stroiks ; 
an then the struggle is too much for natur itsen. 
Thah feels at the soids fort dagger ; but luckily for 
thee, it went slap up tot hilt intot neet mare, an 
shoo tumbled oifa the, an left thee just aloive, an 
that's all. Wa then, thah'rt sumtoimes in a field, 
an a mad bull after thee ; an ivvera toime thah 
troies to run, the feet slips throo under thee, an 
thah cahnt for the varra soul stur offat spot, tillt bull 
gets his horns in the rump, an wit mooast tremen- 
dous rooar at ivver wer bellow'd, sends the whizzin 
intot air; an just when thaht thinkin a cummin dahn 
agean, thah wakkens, in a muck sweeat thankful to 
foind the sen e bed. O avver, o shahnt wunder ift 
oud mare dus'nt crush thee to deeath sum neet, if 
thah dus'nt ger a woif to knock her ofFen thee. But 
after all this, dus'nt thah kno at this world s 
made up a contraries ; an at whether a chap be 
single or dubble, he's shure to meet we a gud deeal 
a trubble. 



J 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 203 

JoNNA — Wa^ o kno o labur under a disadvantege 
we sleepin be me sen ; but o think o'st get Tomma 
Safesoides to sleep we ma. 

'BiL — O shockin ! shockin ! sbockin ! !• — war an 
war ! Wot, two bachelors e won bed ! Unnatter- 
able ! monstrous! Whooa can think a sitch a 
thing withaht shivverin ; limbs tremblin; teeth 
chatterin; two poor fellas frozen to deeath e bed ! 
There's nowt else for it. 

JoNNA — Abbut, mun, oVe t' odds on thee in a 
good menny things, for all the noise. Thah moinds 
it's easier to fill one mahth e toime a bad trade, nor 
hofea duz'n. OVe nooa childer to heart-braik me we 
rooarin for bred, when oVe non to gee em. Mo 
fammala^s all under me hat, thah kno's, an oVe 
nobbada to grumble at me when oVe a bad week ; 
an o can goo aht when o loike, an goo in when o 
loik, an oVe niwer a mooarnin cooach cums to 
fetch me throo't alehass ; an o can have wot ivver o 
loike, o'ther to heit, drink, or ware ; an a can gooa 
to bed when o loik, an o can get up when o loik, 
(all but when oVe t' neet mare,) becos oVe nobbada 
to hinder me. 

BiL— Thah can gooa hooam when ta loiks, thah 
says ; and prethe wot cumfort hesta when thah gets 
there ? Thah's a sulky oud hahcekeeper, wot just 
looks as pleasant as a mutticofe's dadda ; an oud 
crabb'd, cross grained cratch of an oud maid as 
ivver werritted t' skin offen her booans, welcums 
the hooam we a look enuff to freeze one's varra 
vitals. OiFto bed shoo gooas, an leaves thee to 
cumfort the sen we a pot full o cowd porridge wot's 
been made snm three or four hahwers. But just 



204 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

look at cupple at o can tell the on, if ta wants a 
sample a wot they call connubial happiness. He 
gooas hooam at neet, gets him wesht, sits him 
dahn in his two arm'd chair a won soide at table, 
an his woife at tuther ; shooreiches him'tbaccaan*t 
poip, an draws him a glass at Norfolk brewery 
best ; here's a cleean arston, an a cheerful foir ; he 
looks in her face, '' and the glance of her eyes 
seems as mild as a summer morning breaking on 
the earth, when the first rays of the sun shoot like 
streaks of gold across the sea ; and her smiles shed 
an angel influence over him, while the sweet out- 
pourings of -her mind, flow forth like a river, and 
her wit plays like the ripple which the gentle 
breeze makes to sport upon its bosom. While her 
countenance beams smiles on his, and her curling 
lipb whisper the softest music, they sit and look 
into each other's eyes as if their Creator had given 
nothing else worth looking at on this side of heaven. 
Upon such a happy pair, age will descend imper- 
ceptibly, as the calm twilight of a lovely evening, 
when the stars steal out, and the sunbeams die 
away, as a holy stillness glides through the air, like 
the soft breathings of an angel unfolding from his ce- 
lestial wings the silken curtains of a summer night." 

Call Woman angel, goddess, wliat you will, 
With all that fancy breathes at passion's call, 
With all that rapture fondly raves, and still 
That one word, wife, outvies, contains them all. 

It is a word of music, which can fill 
The soul with melody, when sorrows fall 
Bound us like darkness ; and her heart alone 
Is aU that fate has left to call our own. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 205 

JONNA — Save us! thah must be inspired, or 
else thah's been amang't Tales at Booarders. Bur 
o avver, thah's made me feel rather fanny. Bur o 
say, is ther a good menny wolves o that sooat ? 
Becos oVe heeard tell a drunken wolves, an ntista 
dirty wolves, an scoudin wolves, an gossapin wolves, 
an dishonest wolves, an wolves wots been crold 
dahn bit bellman, an wolves wot can molnd 
Ivvera bodda s bisness but ther awn ; hah is it, 
thinks ta, at a bodda dus'nt heear tell a mooar gud 
ans ? 

BlL — ^Whoy o'l tell thee wot o think abaht it : 
there's a varra menny nah days wots made into 
wolves e ther veeal booans, an they contlnnie to be 
coves allt days a ther lolves ; an there's thahsands 
wots made bad wolves bit bad conduct o ther 
husbands. What bisness has a chap at alehass 
Ivvera neet it week, when he's a woife wot ad be glad 
on his cumpana at hooam ? Its a soign he lolks 
his point better nor his wolf. If he wants a sup a 
ale, whoy dus'nt he have It at hooam, an let his 
wolf enjoy booath it an him ? Wot did he tak her 
for ? But e stead a this, he stays aht late, gets 
drunk, neglects his wark, abuses her he pertended 
to loik; then there's black eyes an brokken booans^ 
povverta an rags cums ln> an luv floles aht for Ivven 
O'st say't same as oVe sed befooar, — Ivvera mar^ 
rid man owt to luv his awn arston next be?t to his 
wolf, an his wolf best of all ; an if he dus^nt> depend 
on't there's nooa real happiness there* 

JoNNA — Marra lad, o think all that sahnds to 
sense. 

BiL— O say this, — if a man has a luvvin affec« 

K 



206 tHE SHEBTlEtD DtAtECl:. 

tionate woife, an can addle as miicli mnnna ^s el 
keep him an his famala dacent and cumfortable, o 
say that chap's just happiest man uppa this cir^ 
clum globmn. 

JoNNA — O believe he is, oud lad; an o wish o'd 
one on em just nah. Wot dusta think abaht it. 
Jack ? for thah says nowt. 

Jack — Nou, mun, oVe get'n tooth ake o'er 
bad. 

JooA — Thah has? wa, oVe just heeard on a 
cure for it ; an if thah'l doo it, o'l forfeit mo heead 
if ivver "thah'st tooth-ake onna mooar. 

Jack — Do it ? o'l do owt to be shut o'nt. 

Jog A — Wa then it furst place, thah mun cork 
the throit up, an fill the mahth full at best creeam at 
ta can ger oud on ; an then nock the heead agean 
a wall till its all churned to butter ; an o'l warrand 
that all killt nerve. 

Jack — Dusta meean till my heead's churn 'd to 
batter, or t' creeam ? 

JooA — ^Whoy, thah ma have the choice; becos 
o'ther al doo. 

BiL — Soloman sed thear wer nowt new undert 
sun ; but hark ya. O went tot doctor yisterda for 
sum physic for ahr oud lass; an whoil o wer waitin 
in cums a wumman we a choild in her arms. " If 
yo pleease, sur," says shoo, ''o've browt this choild 
to see if ya can do it onna good." '' What's the 
matter with it, my good woman ? " sayst doctor. 
^'Whoy, sur," says shoo, ''its get'nt pain it box 
varra bad." " Pain it box, my good woman — pain 
it box! What do you mean by the pain in the 
box ? — I never heard tell of the pain in the box 



fHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 207 

before. Can you tell me where its box is ?" sayst 
doctor. ** Whoy, sur," says shoo, clappin her hand 
uppat choild's brest, ^'its just sum where abaht here 
o think." " Aye, aye," sayst doctor, '' you mean 
its chest, don't you ?" '' O dear yis sur, o*d for- 
getten ; o thowt it ad been't box." 

Jack — Wot wear bahn to have a national sys- 
tem of eddication. ar'nt we ? 

BiL — O reckon sooa ; dusta kno wot they're bahn 
to lam em ? 

Jack— Larn em ! whoy they'l larn em joggraffa 
an jommatra, an stronnoma, an mathematticks, 
an a mett-a-fizzicks, an akkosticks, an akkrosticks, 
an cattop tricks, an diop tricks, an i-ro-glifEcks, an 
jimnas ticks, an heethicks> an i-drollicks, an new- 
matticks, an statticks, an opticks, an rettricks, an 
lodgicks, and all other icks. 

J 00 A — Then it al be all up mt oud wumman 
schools, reckon ; for o expect childer al begin to 
larn lodgic befooar theyn dun suckin, went nash- 
onal system begins a common cin. 

BiL — O'l sho the a sample of a oud lass larnin 
a choild to spell Corner. An sooa thah mun just 
picter to the sen a oud stingy -lookin crater, we a 
pair a specks on her nooas, an a stump on a rod in 
her hand. 

Mi%^i^—( ponts to a letter) Wot's that ? 

Choild — O dooant kno. 

Missis — C for Charley. Goose, dus'nt ta see ? 
Wot'st next ? "^ 

Choild— Rahnd 0. 

Missis— Thah's guest it: wot'st next? 

Choild — R for Richard. 
k2 



^WO THK SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Missis — Ger on we the : vvot'st tuther ? 

Choild — Dubbleyoo. 

Missis — Vonk we the, its no mooar loike a 
dubbleyoo nor a cat's loike a niagpoy. It's N, thah 
slut. Wot's them two, eh, maddam ? 

Choild — {IVe it finger in it eye) dooant 
kno. 

Missis — E for elber an R for Bob, thah flat, 
thah '1 ne'er lain nowtwhoil ta lives. Nah then, 
wot dun they all spell ? O say, C-0-R-N-E-R, 
wot duz it spell ? 

Choild — {Ommast heart brokken) O dooant 
kno. 

Missis — {In a passion shouts) Nooik, thah 
liuvvis. 

JooA — Toud lass had a new plate to spell boi. 
But hark the; if thah*d a heeard wot o heeard 
yesterda, thah*d a crackt the soides we laffin. There 
happen 'd to be a gret crahda fooaks abaht a ale- 
hass dooar; sooa o axt oud schooilmissis wot 
wer't matter ; an shoo turned up her tuther pair a 
hoies — *' A, 'bless ya," says shoo, *^ it's a woeful 
job ! it'st crunner wot's houdin a conquest o'er a 
man wot they n fun deead." 

Jack — Better still ; that's a bit a good Ello, 

here's Jooa Guzzle cummin. Bil, ax him hah 
long it is sin they burk'd him e Scottledon. 

Bil — O say Jooa, is it true at thah'd loiken'd ta 
been burk'd when thah wer e EdinbuiTo ? 

Jooa — Hah, beledda is it, lad ! bur o'l tell the 
hah it wor. Thah sees, t' mester's son wot o work'd 
for get marrid; an he geed allt men an ther 
woires a reggilar good doo. Well, we get a 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECt. 200 

praime dinner, an then we begun a drinkin 
whiskey toddy, an befooar dark sum on us begun 
to see dubble, and soon after we cud ni see at all ; 
an o think it wer ommast Chrissmas. O went aht, 
thinkin o*d fetch a cumrade a moine, wot wer a 
furst-rate singer ; but o had'nt gon far befooar't 
air an't wiskey laid me quoit enuff it middle on a 
square ; an hah long o laid there o cant tell ; but 
o avver, o womt there wen o wakken'd, that's a 
shure tbing ; because o fun mesen in a seek, w^e a 
plaister all o'er one soid a me face. Its clear enuflf 
they ment to stop me breeath ; but e ther hurry 
they'd left one comer a me mahth uncuvvered ; an 
there o wor, throne in a comer in a proivate dis- 
sectin room, we not a rag a me back but me shirt. 
When o fun o'd a plaister on me face, o made me 
sen shure o'd been burk'd ; but wot surproised me 
t' mooast, o heeard em fiddlin an doncin it next 
room ; an then o thowt at hah me shop-mates 
ad been puttin't jooak on me ; nay, o thowt a 
hunderd things at once ommast. O avver, o begun 
to feel whear o wor (for o cud'nt see), an o had'nt 
grooapt long befooar o laid houd on a chap's 
nooas, as coud as hoice ; an o fun he wer as nake't 
as ivver he wer bom. There, says o, thah'l be 
starved to deeath; an o rowld him, an shakt him, 
bur he wud'nt spaik ; an sooa o went grooapin on, 
thinkin to foind a dooar, yo kno, an o fun one, an 
they wer singin and don sin still ; but this dooar 
wer fast enuff, an o'd no o a daht but this wer't dooar 
at o'd been browt in at. Nah, then, wot mun^ 
doo, says o; o cud'nt raitch t'winder, an it wer so 
dark o cud hardla tell ther wor one. Nah it 



210 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

liappeiied that there wer a proivate dooar wot 
went intot room where't donsin wor;an o happened 
varra luckila to foind it; an as luck ad have it, 
it had been left unbolted. They'd gen ore fiddlin 
nah, an o fancid they wer gerrin ther supper. Wa, 
thinks o, o'l bolt reit slap in at wonce, an risk all 
consequences ; an sooa in o went, but moi stars ! 
booath them an me wer all scar'd aht on us wits. 
There wer abaht eight or ten foine ladies, wot 
had been paying a visit tot doctor's woife ; — but 
O wot a seet! table wer kickt ore in a jiffa, an*t 
glasses, an't plates, an*t tarts, wer sent e all direc- 
tions. Sum fainted away,, one fell in a fit, another 
fell dahn it dooar steead, an two mooar fell at top 
on her, e ther hurry to ger aht at gate ; an sooa o 
jumpt o'er em all three, an ger aht as soon as o cud 
foind t'way. O avver, o borrowed summada's whoite 
shawl, an lapt me sen e that, for o thowt for sartin 
o shud be starved to deeath ; an it rained an blew, 
an it wer as dark as deeath. O avver, o just turn'd 
me heead to look whear o'd been, an a lamp telFd 
me o'd been in a dissectin room, an o shakt wit 
thowts at o'd just mist bein cut up. But o wornt 
to Stan still e that pickle, an o heeard a gret noise 
at tuther sold at street, as if summada were fallin 
aht ; soo a just went an lissen'd, an o soon fun it 
aht at they'd been berrin summada that day wot ad 
deed withaht a will ; an they wer ommast at feitin 
which shud hav*t mooast brass. Sooa o knockt at 
dooar, an two or three on em cum to oppen it ; but 
afooar a cud spaik, they ran screeamin, '' Here's 
me uncle in his grave-clooas ;" but tuther thowt at 
they wer hooaxin em, sooa they cum, an p wer just 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 211 

steppin in. " Oh ! " says one, thah ma takt munna 
for me;" but they wer all aht at back dooar in a 
cupplea hofe shaks, an o'd t*hahce to me sen. Well, 
thinks o, it al not do to stop here, for if t' watchmen 
shud catch me, theyl tak me for a thief. Sooa o 
drank a tumbler a pooait woine, wot wer stannin 
uppat table, an off o set, an as sooin as o'd get'n 
aht at dooar, o heeard a watch croin't neet : thinks 
o, o'l ax him whear o am ; an bein withaht stockins 
an shoos, o ger up to him befoour he seed me, an o 
tapt him o'ert shoulder; says o, " Wot part" — bur 
he turn'd his he ead,anafooaro cud ger another word 
aht, he jumpt a yard hoigh — '* Murder !" says he, 
an his rattle fell aht on his hand, an he did'nt stop 
to pick it up no'ther. Sooa o foller'd him, an o 
shahted, ''Stop, coward;" bur he wanted none a 
mo cumpana, an o'er a wall he went, an me after 
him, an o jumpt bang uppen a drunken fella on a 
different kidney just then throo't watchman — ''Ello 
ghosta," says he, *' thah't a rare weight, but thah 
irio'nt cum that ageean." Hah, lad, thinks o, it's 
much if thah ar'nt plaistered an in a seek befooar 
long. O avver, o lost watchman, an o'd nooa 
toime to spare to toke tot tuther chap, for o wanted 
to be at hooam, an o wer rare an pleeased to see a 
charch wot tell'd me whear o wor. Nah, yo mun 
understand, at t'hahce where we'd had us doo at, 
wer reit at tuther soide, at church yard ; soo o jumpt 
o'ert rails to cross it for't gainest. O avver, we it 
rainin so terrible fast, o just slipt in tot church 
pooarch to shelter a bit, an get me woind ; bur o 
had 'nt stood aminnit afooar o heeard summada tokin 
a back at dooar it church, an one says tot tuther, '' I 



212 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

say, Jem, we made quick return of that drunken 
booby to-nighl." ''Yes/' says't tuther, " I think we 
had him stript, plastered^ sacked, and in the dissect- 
ing-room in twenty minutes: but it's doing business, 
three in one neet, and I'll warrant it they're all 
three in Glasgow in less than twenty hours." Gud 
hevvens^ says o tumme sen, here's me murderers ! an 
me blud boil'd e me vanes; — o'l troi wot yer 
made on ; o'm sober nab. Sooa o brissled up me 
mettle, an just nah't door oppen'd, an aht cums 
won we a body in a bag on his shoulder, an o stud 
loik a »tatty, an in a low hollow toneo says, " Can- 
not the dead rest," an dahn he fell as if he'd been 
shot, an't body at top on him ; but as fort tuther 
fellow, he cut back intot church, an whether he 
wer scared aht on his wits or not, o cahnt tell ; o 
avver o ne'er seed him. Nah, says o, o'l just sarve 
yo aht : sooa o stript him, an put his clooas on 
mesen, an o slutter'dt body aht at seek, an popt 
him in, threw him o'er me shoolder, and took him 
where he took me. Sooa o call'd this human car- 
cass dealer up, an teld him o'd browt a subject. Is 
he dead or alive, says he : because I have had one 
run away to-night. ( O kno that, says o tumme 
sen, but) whether hee's deead or aloive o cahnt tell ; 
oVe browt him aht at church yard, o can tell that, 
an if yo do*nt loik him yo may tak him back 
ageean. Sooa o cum an left him, an whether he 
liv'd, or whether he deed, o nivver knew nor nivver 
cared. "^ 

BiL — Thah sarved him just reit ; biter get bit'n. 
But gooa on we the tale. 

JooA— Wa, just when o wer cummin aht at doc- 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 213 

ter s, o seed a lot a fooaks stannin abaht dooar wear 
o*(l beent ghost ; sooa o just stept o'er. Wotst 
matter, gud fooaks, says o. Whoy, says won chap, 
they*n been bemn an oud man, wots deed wethaht 
a will, an here's a lot on em wot wants to wrong 
sum childer aht a ther reits, an sooa 'toud man 
cums ageean, an they n agi*eed at childer should 
hav it all ; but they dursnt cum intot hahce, an 
we're ten tin it whoil mornin. Wa, that's jiist reit 
says o ; an o poked me hands into me new breeches 
pockets fort furst toime, an walked off; but wot dun 
ya think ? o slapt me hand agean tbive sovrins, 
an o sung, O be joyfal, an wer at hooam e uooa 
toime, an sed nowt to nobbada whoil mornin. An 
sooa yo seen, o get proice a me awn body, ant body 
anole. 

Jack— O say^ Fred, thah's het'h all that tommy 
an ne'er sed grace. 

_ Fred — Whoy they do'nt say gi*ace to droi bred^ 
do they, eh ? 

Jack — Hah, sloik ihey do, they owt to say 
grace to ivvera thing. OVe heeard tell on a chap 
say in grace to a bishop, afooar nah. 

JooA — Wot, wor he bahn to heit him? 

Jack — ^Whoy't bishop thowt sooa. 

Jqoa — Hah wor it, prethe? 

Jack — Wa, thah sees, he wer cummin to con- 
firm' t lads an lasses it parish, an sooa t' parson sed 
to his man John, — ^John, we shall have the Arch- 
bishop here to-moirow, and remember when you 
are handing him out of his carnage, you must say 
Your Grace. Very well, sir, says John. Sooa 
John practis't his grace all't neet, for freead he shud 
K 3 



214 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

mak a blunder. avver't next day cums't bishop, 
an away John runs, oppens't carriage dooar, gets 
fast houd on his arm, — '* For wot o'm bahn to 
receive, may o be truly thankful," says he; ant 
bishop stared at him, an twitcht his arm away. 
"Why you are not going to eat me, I hope, are 
you, John? " an away in tot parson's hahce he went, 
an teld em John had been sayin his grace befooar 
meit, an a rare laff they had on it. 



m 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 

'' UPPA AHR HULL AESTON." 
NO. IV. 

(From the " Supplement to tlie Annual" for 1838.) 



Jack — O say, Bil, we*re bahn to have a Lord 
Mare e She wild, ar'nt we ? 

BiL — O reckon we're bahn to have a mare with- 
aht a lord. Thah kno's, or else thah owt to kno 
at there's nobbat two lord mares, an w^on's at York 
an't tuther at Lmmmi. 

Jack — An a set a aldermen anole, ar'nt we? 

BiL — O gess we are. 

Jack — An wot will they have to do ? 

JooA — Heit turtle soop, an guzzle woine ; an 
they'l be gret big fellas, we bellies loik hoo^sheeads, 
an heeads loik boilers, an mahths wot ad swaller 
a bottle a Sherra before thah cad say Jack Ro- 
binson. 

Jack — An wot besoide ? 

JooA--Whoy they'l mak thee and me pay for it^ 
reckon. 



216 THE SHETFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack — Webbut shahnt we be na better for bav- 
in em ? they sen here is'nt tiibbe nooa lard mare's 
feeast, an sitch loik, wetbaht they payn for it ther 
sens. 

JooA — Better ? hah, sloik we shall; if thafe gets 
drunk, an flops a watchman's een up, an gets imot 
boil o*er it, whoy, thab'l get troid next day, e 
steead a havvin to lig two or three neets undert 
clock. 

JooA Guzzle — That's worth onna thing. 

Jack — O then, its fort bennefit at drunkards, 
is it, at we're to pay two thahsand a year, eh ? wa, 
o in shure there's not a drunken thing it tahn but 
wot al be varra much obleeg'd to these gentlemen 
for it* 

BiL — Wa, but ahr great larned men says at hah 
it al be a good thing fort tahn ; at hah it al moral - 
oise us, an bring abaht household suffrage, an vooat 
be ballot, an o kno'nt wot besoid. 

Jack — Well, well, if it al doo us onna good, 
let's have a mare an a horse anole, nobbut tak good 
care at mare dus nt turn aht to be a ass ; for we'n 
been ass't enuff. 

BiL — Thah maks me think abaht mare a Don- 
caster. He wer wonce roidin on a ass in a field at 
ahtsoid at tahn, an a chap wot belonged field wer 
cummin past, an seed him ; sooa when he ger intot 
tahn, he met a lad wot went bit name a Soft Jack. 
"Jack," says he, " there *s a mare an a ass e my 
field at tahn end yonder; if thahl fetch em aht, an 
put em it pinfoud, o'l ge the sixpence." Sooa ofi" 
Jack set, we a good thick cudgel in his hand, an 
intot field he went, an stared all rahnd, but cud'nt 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 217 

see his gam ; till at last t' mare seed him starin 
abaht, an axt him wot he wer seekir. " Whoy, 
sur," says Jack, " Mr. Sharp's sent me to catch a 
mare an a ass, wot he said wer e this field, an he'd 
ge me sixpence: but o can see non on em," says 
he, varra soiTowfully, for fread he shud'nt get six- 
pence. '' Whoy," says't mare, " thah flat, he 
meeans me ; here. Jack, here's sixpence for thee." 

Jack — T' cud mare had a bit a generosity abaht 
her. 

BiL — O say, Jooa, o wish thah^d gee us a sooat 
an a runnin accahnt a thah travels after thah get 
the discharge e Spain. 

JA.CK- — That's just wot o shud loik to hear; 
becos oVe heeard sed at hah thah wer wonce tain up 
an put'n into a monastery, or t'inquisition, or* 
summat a that sooat. 

JooA Guzzle^ — It ommast maks me blud run 
cowd to think ont ; but o avver, oVe nooa object- 
tion, as it al ge ya sum idea wot popery is e 
Spain. Get the poip let, Billa, an sturt foir up ; 
clap a lump a coil on, an ne'er heed t' pioperoia- 
tors. Wa then, o think when o get mo discharge, 
we wer at a place call'd Talavera : an when o'd 
rigg'd mesen aht we sum new clooas, o thowt o'd 
set off for merry England. O avver, as o'd tra- 
vel'd a good deeal for summada's else's pleasure, 
o thowt o'd travel a bit for me awn nah; an sooa 
off o set for Madrid, capital a Spain, to see wot 
wer gooin off there. Ahx fooaks wer vari'a weel 
off then, an they'd sent me plenty a l^ass, an a 
small parcel a other little matters be a woine 
marchant. After travellin a day or two o get to 



218 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

a place wot they call, the Monastery of San Lo- 
renzo, abaht twelve o'clock at noon, where they 
wer keepin't feeast at blessed Virgin, an t' pro- 
cession wer just gooin rahnd. TTurst fellow it 
lot carried a image, apparently made a gold ; two 
monks, won a won soid, an't tuther at tuther 
soide on him, carried a beautiful arch, hung we 
bunches a grapes ; after these rode Don Francisco, 
the Inquisitor General, an then monks, friars, an 
nuns, withaht end. O observed at ivvera bodda 
wot met em went dahn a ther knees whoil't Virgin 
got past em : unluckily for me, o'd been havvin 
sum wine wot made me feel rather merry ; sooa 
o smoiled an walked on, withaht gooin dahn a me 
knees; — but oh, moi goodness ! they sooin sober'd 
me ; for foive or six fellows had houd on me in a 
minnit, an o expected they'd a throttled me there 
an then ; an o fun me sen within t'walls at monastery 
e quick toime, where they blufted me, an led me 
throo a varra long passage, then up sum woindin 
stairs, into a gallara, as o thowt : an o thowt for 
sartin we shud near a dun gooin dahn steps, till at 
last o heeard a boult on a dooar creeak, an't dooar 
oppen, an in we went, an they fixt me feet in a 
sooart an a clasp, an ged me oud on a rooap. O 
axt em wot they wer bahn to do we me ; but not a 
word throo cummin in to this minnit. They took 
me bluft oif, an in a instant o disappeared ; dahn o 
went, o shud think forta or fifty feet. O'd nooa 
sooner left houd at rooap, but up it went, an dahn 
went trap-dooar we a crash wot eckoed loik thunner 
throo one end at dungeon tot tuther. Nah o wisht 
me sen it ridgiment ageean, an when o begun to 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 219 

think a me perilous situation, o wer cumpletely 
paraloized. O turn'd me hoies all rahnd, but not 
a spark a leet cud o see. All wer as dark as dark- 
ness at might be felt, — ^the air coud an chilly — the 
walls damp an sloimy — the flooar weet an filthy. 
O walkt abaht ommast frantic, an menny a toime o 
curst woine an popery booath together. Sumtoimes 
o shahted, bur o cud hear nowt but me awn dismal 
wail eckoin throo't vaulted roof of this Spanish hell. 
But avver, after a whooal neet at mooast dreadful 
forebodins, o wer debited at hearin't trap dooar 
oppen, an't rooap let dahn : o instantly fassen'd 
houd on it, an as soon o wer drawn up ; but 
ommast afooar they'd landed me, they blufted me, 
tho' this place wer as dark as pitch ; here they 
stript me, an left me nowt but me shirt an belt ; 
an when they'd put'n me their prison dress on, they 
led me aht into a sooat on a chapel, wot wer 
alreddy filled we lookers on, cum'd to see wot 
punishment Virgin ad to inflict on me fort insult 
wot o'd dun her. They fixt me on a vaiTa hoigh 
seeat; fair it front on me sat Don Francisco, 
an a one soid sat friars, an at tuther soid monks. 
Just nah there cums up to me a oud grizly 
faced friar, to inform me at mo punishment 
would be decided bit blessed virgin. The Grand 
Inquisitor wer to put it tot Virgin, whether mo 
ccoime wornt tubbe punished wit rack ; an if shoo 
assented shoo wer to nod her heead. All eyes 
wer in a minnit turn'd towards a foin image at 
Virgin. Don Francisco then made a long oration 
abaht sinnin agean't Queen of heaven ; an when 
he'd finish t his farrago, he made his proposition to 



220 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

her, an strange to tell, shoo wud'nt nod. O thowt 
they sempt in a pucker a sum hah ; for Don Fran- 
cisco shahted we all his moight, " Will tne Queen 
of heaven nod ?" A dead soilnence then sempt to 
pervade ivvera person present, an three or four 
minnits pass'd in a suspense between life an death ; 
but still the Queen of heaven wud'nt nod ?" Wa, 
then, booath monks an friars croied aht, " Will the 
Queen of heaven nod ? — an just at this minnit a 
fellow pull'd a curtain a one soide, an in a tremblin 
voice croied aht, '* The string's brokken." O seed 
throo the craft in a minnit, an't guards took me 
back to me doleful dungeon, blufted as befooar. 
Well, thowt o wot a piece a popish trickery is this 
to tak a man's loife away, an gull the people ! Wa 
then, o woked abaht agean, an fun a step e one 
corner. Thinkin there happen mut be summat 
aboon, o ger onto it, an raicht me hands all rahnd 
as far as o cud, an o felt summat soft an greeasy, 
wot turn'd aht to be a torch fassen'd it wall. Nab, 
it sooa happen 'd at o'd two or three a Jones's Etiia 
matches, at o awlis carrid fassen'd to me belt; sooa 
says o, o'l leet it^ let consequence be wot it may. O 
nipt me match, an let torch in a jiffa. Sooa nah 
o begun to look rahnd me, an abaht foive yards 
farther there wer onother torch, an o let that; 
an then o seed there wer torches fassen'd it 
walls all rahnd, an sooa o let era all ; an as 
Jonathan Martin said, when he set t'organ a foir e 
York Minster, o had a blessed blaze ; an o wornt 
long befooar o fun it aht wot they wer fixt there fon 
Nah, then, o examined me lodgins : an oh ! its 
ennff to mak abodda'g flesh creep to think abaht 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 221 

t/ instruments a death kept in a inquisition ;— iroii 
cages, massy chains, gihbets, gullotoins, gridoions, 
cauldrons, slow foirs, rack wheels, pincers heated 
red hot, to nip the flesh of heretics. In one place 
wer a iron chair, fixt just befooar a furnace; in this 
chair the unhappy sufferer wor fassened,the crahn of 
hisheead shaved, an coud watter droppin on it,whoile 
he wer ommast roasted wit foir at same time. An 
when o begun to think which a these tortures would 
end mo miserable existence, me heart sickened, an 
o fell ommast senseless uppat grahnd. O avver, 
when o cum to me sen agean, o heeard trap-dooar 
oppeu, an dahn cums a square booard, we a small 
chain at ivvem corner ; on it wer a small flickerin 
lamp, a pitcher a watter, an summat at they call'd 
bread. O drankt watter greedily, but o cud heit 
non a ther bread, an sooa they drew it up agean, 
but trap-door did*nt fall dahn as befooar, an o cud 
hear't guards tokin varra hard, but wot they sed o 
cud nt tell : but e abaht ten minnits a pair a iron 
dooars flew oppen at far end at cell, an in cums 
Don Francisco, be a subteiTaneous passage, we foive 
monks, all carryin wax candles e ther hands. 
O sat still, and waited on em cummin up, 
when the Inquisitor-general broke soilence, — 
''What means the blazing of these torches, sirrah?" 
"If yer Holiness al lend me yer hearin for a min- 
nit, o'l acquaint ya we wot o kno abaht it (but thah 
kno's o cud toke foiner then). O'd been prayin 
tot blessed Virgin for four hahwers at shoo'd pardon 
me sin, an at last an appearance bright as*t sun 
came an stood afooar me, an said, 'Man, thou art 
forgiven, sin no more,' an instantly shoo set all 



222 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

these torches a blazin withaht oiina foire, an then 
vanisht away." The Inquisitor then turn'd up his 
eyes, an sed as near as o cud catch, *' O Queen of 
heaven ! what thou loosest on earth, let no man 
bind." They then led me away throo this rooad 
wot went under grahnd, an took me into a beautiful 
chamber, browt me clooas, an then took me intot 
heitin hahce, an set before me ivvera thing at me 
heart cud wish for, — ged me me munna back, an a 
good deeal mooar to it, and telFd me if o'd a moind 
to stop we em, o shud live loike a gentleman. 
Sooa o staid a whoil we em, an it went all o ert 
country loike woild-foire; for throo Catalonia to 
Cape Finisterre, it wer kno'n at the Virgin had 
made her appearance in the room of discipline 
at San Lorenzo, and had let up all the torches 
withaht foir. Don Francisco took care at torches 
ne'er went aht ; for the dupes sooin begun a cum- 
min e drooaves a pilgrimagin, to pay their devo- 
tions an their contributions tot blessed Virgin ; an 
a varra foine thing Don Francisco made on it. O 
avver, o thowt after all his goodness tumme, it wer 
his intention never to let me leave em. Be that as 
it may, o took me opportunity won day, when they 
wer all performin hoigh mass, an set oflffor Lisbon, 
glad to get aht an his clutches. 

BiL — A varra foine specimen at muther chetch, 
that is. 

JooA Crocus — Abbut Popery's not same here, 
thah kno's. 

Jack — Nou, an o don't think a bit better on't 
for all that. Popery's made loik a nooase a wax 
nah days, wot may be made to suit onna face ; it's 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 2^3 

made to suit onna cuntra.— Webbut hah went ta on 
at Lisbon ? 

JooA — Whoy, o think thear wer nowt worth 
tellin took place, till o'd getn a menny moils throo 
Vendas Novas, when o happen 'd tubbe benighted, 
an lost me way. O wandered menny a moil, till at 
last o seed a leet at a distance ; soo o made too it 
we alFt haste o cud. When o got up to it o knock t 
at dooar, but nobbada came; o knockt agean, but 
nobbada came still ; at last, after a whoil, a woman 
came tot dooar, an oppen'd it ; but shoo seem'd 
mooast teiTably freeten'd, an did'nt spaik a word. 
Sooa axt if a traveller wot ad lost his way, could 
have shelter for a neet ; when a voice from within 
invited me forrad ; sooa o went in, when a oud man 
wot sat in a corner spake; — "Friend," says he, " be 
who thou wilt, the hospitality of this house is at thy 
service ; you are welcome here, and may the saints 
protect us ! But," continued he, "I imagine you 
will not much loik sum company wot we re expect- 
ing here this night." Thinks o tumme sen, am o 
bahn tubbe in anuther mess to neet ? "Whooa are 
ya loikla to have," says o. "Whether it be safe to 
trust a stranger when a cuntry's full a inquisitorial 
spies, is not so clear," says't oud man. "O'm nooa 
way desoirous to kno sacrets ; but sin yo'n been so 
koind as to tak me in, an ge me shelter, o will say 
this, at if onnabodda's cummin here, wot yo'd -a 
ther be sumwhere else, if it be the great muckle- 
horn de'il his sen, o'l have a rap at him." Sooa 
we this, t bud man's confidence wer a bit strongs 
then'd, an he began to tell me wot wer up. — Says 
be " We've had won at inquisitors here, to demand 



224 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

a certain sum a munna for the use of the church , 
and the absolution of all us sins, an if it wornt 
tain to a sartin place abaht hofe a inoil off last 
neet, befooar twelve o'clock, at the church ad give 
us all up to the d — 1, tubbe fetch t away to-neet, at 
exactla twelve o'clock ; an we en all been freeten'd 
aht an us wits ivver sin/' Wa, says o, did ya tak 
all they wanted ? '' Nou," says t'oud man, " nor a 
quarter ; but we took all we cud get ; but we kno 
wemun gooa to neet; fort church's wants is varra 
urgent." Well, says o, let em cum ; its non at 
inquisitor, says o, depend on't ; it's sum vagabond 
beggin friar, wot wants to scar ya aht on yer mun- 
ny ; an o toked to em whoil they wer ommast 
perswaded it wor sooa : sooa they agreed at o shud 
just doo as o thowt proper. Well, o get a gud 
strong rooap, an o made a snoose at won end, an 
threw it o'er a high hawk, wot went just o'ert door, 
an at back at door o took me station. Sooa at 
twelve his sooty magesty cums, oppens 't door, 
an walks in. O pops t' snoose o'er his horns, an 
drew him up in a jiffa; an when o'd get'n him up, 
he dropt aht'n his skin, an begg'd varra tenderly 
for his loife ; for o held me pistol to his brains, an 
teld him if he sturr'd a limb o'd bio em ah't, if he 
had onna. O avver, o made him pay t' munny 
back wot he'd getn, an o kickt his monkish rump, 
an sent him abaht his bisniss. Sooa then we all 
went to bed ; ant next day o set off for Lisbon, an 
throo there o set sail, an landed e England ; ant 
furst neet o put up at a alehass abaht a dozen moil 
offat sea-shore; an it cooarse at conversation (for 
there wer a gud deeal a cumpana that neet), ihey 
begun a tokin abaht ghosts an sitch loik ; an o 



THK SHE! FIELD DIALECT. 225 

happen 'd to say at o nivver wer scared at owt e me 
loif. *' Wa," says t' lanlord, ''yon a chonce to try 
yer currage to-neet if ya loikn ; there's an oud 
cassle at top at hill, wot's been honted this fifty 
years, an o'm authorized bit lord at manor to give 
onna chap foive guineas an foive bottles a woine, 
wot al spend one neet in it. " O'm yer man/' 
says o, "foive bottles a woine al face all't ghosts an 
goblins e all't oud cassles it country. But is ther 
a bed," says o. ''As gud a one as ivver*t king roll'd 
in," says he. Sooa off we set, we ivvera thing at o 
wanted, an alFt cumpana we us, to see me safe in ; 
an o wer pratta sooin e one at cassle chambers, we 
me poip e me cheek, an a bottle befooar me. Well, 
o emtid one bottle, an then thro'd me sen ontot 
bed, an slept for abaht four hahwers, when o wer 
wakken'd be a varra hollow, mooanin sooart on a 
noise; sooa o jumps up, taks me dagger e won 
hand, an a candle it tuther^ an away o went, dahn 
sum woindin stairs into a gret big room, an here o 
stood ; an directla t' sahnd cum agean, and then 
another uppen a hoigher key. O then seedexactla 
where it cum throo ; o wer shure o me gam, an o 
sent me dagger reit up tot hilt throo sum curtains, 
an there o left it, an went an rowled me sen ontot 
bed, an slept as sahnd as a top till day-leet next 
morning, when hofe at fooaks at village wer cum 
to see if o wer aloive. O went uppat turret walls, 
an teird em o'd kill'd ghost; sooa in they cum, an 
they pulled screen dahn, and beheen't curtains wer 
sum poips belongin to a oud fammala organ, at 
when't t'wind blew throo't oud cassle walls, it get 
into these ghostly barrels, an freeten*d all't fooaks 
it parish for a centery past. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



MISCELLANEOUS CONVERSATIONS 



'UPPA AHR HULL ARSTON. 



(From the ^^ Annual" for 1839.) 



BiL Heftpoip — Nah, Jack, we'n varra near 
getn to another Christmas. Wot's to be't subject 
fort Annual, thinks ta, eh ? 

Jack Wheelswarf — Wa, o rala do'nt kno wot 
its to be ; not becos o'm fast for won, but becos o'm 
ommast fast it choice a won. 

BiL — Well, hasta nowt to say abaht politticle 
world ? Thah kno's we're bahn to have yuniversal 
suffridge, an sitch loik. 

Jack — Yuniversal fudge ! Yuniversal suffridge 
an yuniversal suffrin is terms booath aloik. But 
no mooar a this ; o hate seet o pollitics. 

BiL — Well, will ta have morals ? 

Jack— 0*1 not have Robin Owen's morals, at 
onria rate. 

BiL — Will ta have phy sicks ? 

Jack — If thah'd mo doctor's bill to pay this 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 227 

Chrissmas, thah'd think o'd had physick enuif 
already. 

BiL — Well, then, here's divinity ? 

Jack — That's to sublime. 

BiL — Astronomy ? 

Jack — That's to high. 

BiL — Geology ? 

Jack — That's to low. 

BiL — Mattaphysicks ? 

Jack — That's to hard. 

BiL — Phrenology ? 

Jack — That's to soft. 

BiL — Will ta have mathematics ? 

Jack — Nou, that's to puzzlin. 

BiL — Optics ? 

Jack — That's to dazzlin. 

BiL — jiErostalion ? 

Jack — That's to flighta. 

BiL — Steam-ostation ? 

Jack — That's to smooka. 

BiL — A, thah flat, there's na smooak e steeam. 

Jack — Abbut, there is e gettin it up. 

BiL — Sharp an ! Witta have anattoma ? 

Jack — Horrible! 

BiL — Well, thah't a rum an, then. O move 

thah wroits the loif. 

Jack — There may be a gud deal on it to cum yit. 

BiL — meean that wot's past. 

Jack — And prethe wud ta have me to tell't 
truth ? 

BiL — Tubbe shure ; why not ? 

Jack — Abbut o shud'nt loik. An besoid there's 
a gud deeal a mo loif wots not worth kno'in ; an 



228 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

if o wer to tell wot is worth kno'in, nobbada ad 
believe it ! an sooa wot'st yuse ? 

BiL — There may be sum truth e that ; but thah 
krio's when they wroit n men's loives they awlis 
tak gudc are to let em seet breet soid on em : theyn 
awlis sooa menny gud things to tell, at it ad be 
ommast impossible to thrust a bad an in edge way. 

Jack — Then o'm not to say nowt abaht me bad 
actions, eh ? 

BiL — Nou, its not worth whoil. 

Jack — Then mo loif al be a short an, if o'm to 
tell nowt but me gud ans, for o cahnt remember 
menny. 

BiL — Well, well, ne'er heed, let's have em, an 
well tak em just same as men tak ther woives, for 
better or war. Thah's had a gud menny ups an 
dahns e thah bit a toime at o kno on ; an foi mo 
part cahnt see whoy a poor man's loif shud'nt be 
written as weel as a rich man's ; an o m shure 
there's been a gud deeal a variety e thoine ; sooa 
o hooap thah'l commence beginning at for*end 
furst, an let's have the pedigree an all abaht it. 

Jack — Thah tokes abaht me pedigree as if o had 
w^on. O can tell the varra little abaht it, though o 
understand at ahr fammala at furst came aht aWales 
becos they sen ahr's is a Welsh name: but it seems 
rather odd at a Welsh name shud have so much 
watter in it. Menny a Welsh gowky carries his 
pedigree up to Adam an Eve it garden a Paradise, 
an if ahr fammala cum throo Wales, o'm shure 
sum gret king or other Wer mo ancestor, tho o'm 
not much troubled at o dooant kno whooa he wor. 
But o avver, o'm quoit shure mo falh'er Wornt a 



a?HE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. S2 ) 

Welshman, nor his fath'er nother, nor his fath*er's 
gronfath'er, an hah menny gvonfath'ers we mut 
reckon befooar we get to us Welsh gronfath'er, o 
cahnt tell ; sooa TN'ithaht goin back tot creation, or 
even tot Domesday book, to seek us origin, o'st just 
say at oVe every reeason to believe at mo fath'er 
wer born at their hthce, abaht two moil off a Pom- 
fret cassle, an wer chrisstened after me gronfath'er, 
but not bit same name; an o believe at he lived we 
his fath'er an muther til he left em, an then he 
went an lived sumwhere else, where he begun a 
smidgin after a farmer's dowter, till he snudged her 
tot church ; an after a whoile o came tumblin uppat 
stage a loife, shakt intot world be a earthquake, for 
oVerdheard em say at that neet o wer born, they 
felt bed shak under em ; an't furst thing o did, o 
begi! I a suckin me muther, an after that me fath er. 

BiL — H ad there's nooa wunder on the bein siteh 
a rum stick ; thah cum intot world in a rum fashon 
seeminly. It wer varra odd, an thah's been odd 
ivver sin, an o expect thah'l awlis remain odd; — 
but gooa on. 

Jack — Wa, o think o ma say at hah we'n seen 
sum sarvice sin ahr matrimonial ship set sail o'er 
lifeswide sea; we'n had menny a tempestuous 
neet, an menny a tremendous storm had spent its 
fury uppen us little bark, an menny a prahd wave 
has threttened to send us dahn to Davy Jooan's 
locker ; — sumtoimes we'n been sailin in a fog, an 
did nt know whether we wer gooin reit or wrang ; 
an then there's been a hurrakin, an we'n been driven 
befooar't storm, tost up an dahn wit fury a booath 
wind an sea, whoile we'n be lasht be faith lot main- 

L 



230 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

mast, up yonder, thah kno's, an gret big billows has 
rould ore us little ship; an then there's been a 
deead calm, an we cud nother get won way nor 
another ; an just when we'd given up all for lost, it 
clear'd up, a providential sun burst forth we all his 
glory, an dispersed these bewildering fogs, an't 
winds an waves wer hush'd to sleep ; an nah we 
seem to sail away just as sweetly as't Waterwitch 
glides dant Humber on a bright summer's day, 
when weather an wind an waves conspire to speed 
her course, an waft her swiftly o'er the beautiful 
face of the dark green sea. 

BiL — Hah, that's all varra foine figurin, but o 
want the to gooa on wit particulars. 

Jack — Nay, lad, not sooa, o cahnt stummack 
tokin abaht me sen no'ther. O've dun. 

BiL — Wa, then, o'l toke abaht the. 

Jack — Abbut thah kno's nowt. 

BiL — Yabbut o doo, a good deeal mooar nor 
thah't aware on. 

Jack — Dusta kno owt wots good abaht me ? 

BiL — Yis o do. 

Jack — Can ta tell me wot wert best thing at 
ivver o did e me loif ? — o meean to me sen. 

BiL— Hah o can. 

Jack — Wot wor it ? 

BiL — Gerrin marrid. 

Jack — Thah's just guest it. 

BiL^ — But o say thah wer put prentis to a elsin 
makker, wornt ta ? 

Jack — Whoy, to be shure, thah kno's that. 

BiL — Hah, an o kno at thah wonce perswaded 
won at prentices to tee a piece a band to his gret 



TUE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 231 

tooa, an put it aht at gan'et window, for thee to call 
him up at two o'clock it monin ; an o kno at yore 
missis got oud on it, an ommast pull'd the poor 
fellow's tooa off; — is'nt that true ? 

Jack — Yah, but hah did thah get to kno ? 

BiL — O near heed. But o say dusta remember 
owt abaht them cats, eh ? ' 

Jack — Cum, cum, thah mo'nt tell that, o av- 
ver; prentis lad's tricks dus'nt owt tubbe made 
public. 

BiL — O that's all fudge ; it ad ge fooaks a idea 
wot sooat a wags yo wor. 

Jack — Thah mo nt tell it. 

BiL — Thah'l no'ther toke the sen, nor let me 
toke. Tell us abaht that schooil wot thah just to 
gooa to e that garret thah kno's, uppat Wicker 
brigg. 

Jack — Hah, that's intellectual, o loikthat; that 
garrets sweet to mo recollection; joinin that soci- 
ety wert second best thing at ivver o did. 

BiL — An wot did ya study, prethe ? 

Jack — Whoy, grammar, logic, ontology, an 
theology, an a bigger thickheead e general know- 
ledge nivver existed nor o wor afore o went there ; 
but o had'nt been amang em long befooar o wer't 
senior wrangler, and cud measure tungs we onna on 
em ; but mo fav rite study wer metaphysics. 

BiL — O then, that's just reason at thah's awlid 
been able to kick t 'infidels abaht sooa. 

Jack— Egzactla; for o begun a readin an 

thinkin till ahr oud lass thowt o shud gooa crazed ; 

becos won monin, wen we wer gettin as brekfast, 

an o wer thinkin varra deeply, shoo axt me to reyk 

l2 



232 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

her t' bread an butler, an o reykt her t' kettle. Hah 
says shoo, yo'l sooin be offa yer heead ; but o avver 
me heead's on yit, an its best at ivver o had e all 
me loif ; an o've been readin an ihinkin an workin 
ivver sin, an o'm sahnd yit (thanks for it,) booath 
wind, limb, an oye-soight. 

BiL — An wot sooat a books has to read ? 

Jack — For what o call loight readin, Tom 
Hickathrift, Sinbad the Sailor, an 

BiL — llnferruptin him'] Cum^ cum, non a 
the gammon, o mean what metaphysical works has 
ta read ? 

Jack — Oh ! whoy, sitch as Drew, Brown, 
Stewart, Reij, Locke, an that set; but there's a 
book written be Alexander Keitb, uppa ProjDhecy ; 
if ta wants to see infidelity smasht to shivvers, read 
that. 

BiL — An wot infidel authors has ta red ? 

Jack — Silly oud Mirabaud, Volney,an that sca- 
venger Tom Pain, an Durty Dick, an last of all, 
poor oud crazy Owen. Sooa thah sees, we kno'n 
all't gang OQ em, an can rattle us intellectual musher 
abaht ther external circumstances whoil they croy, 
''Hold of!" 

BiL — But thah hasn't teld us yit wot thah'l hav 
for the next Annual ? 

Jack — Wa, theres's been a meetin at gossips 
at Sally Slutterdish's, an oVe get n a full, true, an 
particular accahnt of all't proceedins, an if yon a 
moind to hear em, o'l read em ya. 

BiL — Gum then, let's have em. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 233 

AT A 'MEETIN OF THE GOSSIPS, 

(mally mendnowt, chaieman,) 

Which took place August 32ncl, at the house of 
Sally Slutterdish, it wer yunaniiuously resolved, 
at a petition shud be sent tot Queen Victoria, 
for betterin't condition of all her female objects; 
mooar particularly, to lessen ther labour, an 
prevent em from ill usage ; at which meetin the 
follerin worthies wer present ; viz., Dolly Doo- 
little, Sally Slutterdish, Dinah Dubble-tung, 
Betty Long-tung, Suke Slippy tung, Sally Wag- 
jaw, Nanna Frumper, an Ruth Runagate. 

MooAST Gracious Queen, — We, yore mooast 
humble sarvants, at tuther sex, yo knon, begs 
leave to lig befooar ya sum a are grievances, it 
hooaps, as yo yer sen is a wumman, at yo'l tak em 
all into yore consideration when yo'n seen em. 
Bless yer soul, mo lass, yo kno'n nowt; — we're 
abused scandillous ; us husbands has no mooar 
feelin for us nor brutes. Yo ma depend on't, we're 
yused ten toimes war nor slaves; we're nockt an kickt 
an clamm'd an starved, — a dear, a dear ! shurely yol 
have better luck nor we n had, or else yo'd better 
nivver be married. We'n nivver a bit a toime to 
spare to gooa aht a bit, an if we had, we'n nowt to 
gooa in ; there's nobbut won bonnet amang seven on 
us, — tuther's all at us uncles. Wa then, we'n to 
wesh all us awn things for all us famalies, withaht 
nobbada to help us, an yo kno'n yer sen at hah it's 
not a loikla thing where there's foive or six childer; 
an wot mays it war nor all besoide, if we hav'nt 



234 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

dun weshin afooar iioin o'clock at fleet, when 
he cums hooam we getn a gud hlackin, an 
a good thumpin if we sen owt: all which we 
think is'nt bearable. An then agean, if we 
happen to be in a neighbour's hahce nursin when 
he cums hooam, an't dhmer is'nt just ready 
to stuiFin his mahth, wa then we drop in tot suds 
agean ; at yo ma see hah it is well enuff. An sooa 
withaht sayin onna mooar, (for yo kno'n, we nivver 
loike to say much,) yo mun look at ahr petition, 
an we hooap at yo'l grant us all we want, an then 
we'st be better off, an we'l sing. Long live Victoria, 
till we strein us ankle. 

Wa then, t'furst thing at we'st ax for al be, at 
there shall nobbut be won weshin day in a munth, 
an if ther shirts gets nasta, they may turn em ; an 
at ivvera wumman wots a choild to nurse under two 
year oud, shall have a wesherwoman to help her. 

2. At yo*l be pleeased to appoint a flooatin 
parish weshin masheen, becos yo knone when ween 
to Stan it steeam, an then gooa an hang a basket 
full a clooas aht to droy, we varra offens catch 
cowd in us brests, yo knone. 

3. At yol be pleased to put a duty nppa all 
ruffled shirts, an plated dickies, an sitch loik, sooa 
that it may doo away we a deeal a proide, yo 
knone. 

4. At yo'l tak into yore consideration the present 
varra laborious system of manglin, which is varra 
destructive to ahr constitution, besoide varra offens 
been fooast to wait a long whoil for a kail, which 
is quoit as distructive to ahr patience ; an at yo'l 
appoint a parish mangle to gooa be steeam, or onna 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 235 

Other way at yo may think fit, Dobbut dooant let's 
have it to turn. 

5. As there's ivvera reeason to believe at there's 
been ten toimes mooar lasses knees lamed we 
kneelin to scrub flooars nor we lineelin to say ther 
prayers, we beg at yo'l mak it into a law, at throo 
this toime, henceforrad, an for ivver, all flooars 
shall be wesht vve a mop, not mooar nor twoice a 
week, nor less nor wonce. 

6. At all pots, plates, dishes, cups, an saucers, 
pans and panshons, an ivvera thing wots used o'ther 
e heitin or drinkin, shall not be wesht mooar nor 
twoice e week, an then they shall be tain tot dyke, 
becos uppat present system there's sooa menny 
gets brokken. 

7. At yol be pleeased to tak a gret deeal a 
wark aht an as hands, be appointin a parish oven, 
an a parish boiler, at we ma bake -all us bread e 
won, an boil all us dumplins it tuther. 

8. At all winders shall be cleaned once a munth, 
an not mooar nor twoice, there's so menny panes 
gets brokken we rubbin em ; an at all't ahtsoids 
shall be wesht bit watter ingens at public expense. 

9. At yo'l be so good as to consider at hah't 
wimmin'st wakest vessel, an's nowt to defend 
ther sens we but ther tung ; an there fooar we 
think it nowt but reit at yo'l pass a act at ivvera 
wumman shall be allow'd to spaik twoice to her 
husband wonce. 

10. As yo ma be quoit shure where there's a gret 
family a childer, a wumman's loik tubbe varra 
throng in a moning; an that bein't case, we beg 
at hah yo'l order at ivvera man shall get up furst 



236 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

when they cahnt afford tokeep a sarvaiit, an kindle a 
foir,set kettle on, antak his brekfast tot shop we him. 

11. At nooa man shall be allowed to thump his 
woif for bein aht went dinner owt lubbe ready; be- 
cos we're offens called aht to look at badla childer, 
an silch loik. 

12. At nooa man shall be allowed to mump 
his woif when be chonce shoo happens to get a sup 
to much ; becos shoo'st wakest vessil, a little sup 
does it. 

[As sooin as this 12th article wer mention Vd, ahr 
repooarter informs us at it varra near proved fatal 
tot whooal consarn ; for there happened tubbe two 
on em sat on a chair wot wer dubbled dahn, an won 
on em had a choild on her knee ; went tuther, we 
bein so pleased we hearing this article, jumpt up in 
a rhapsody, an dahn went t'oud mother, rowlin 
aero St flooar loike a gret fat porpus in a storm, 
whoilt choild tumbled neck or nowt reit slap intot 
asnook. Here wer a foine seet, if yo'd nobbut seen 
it; t'oud lass rooared aLt, an't choild screeamed it 
een up ; two or three on em wer fit to brust we 
laffin,whoile two or three mooar wer getherin't cud 
lass up. Just at this instant a fellow oppens't 
dooar, and looks in ; *^ that's a glorious subject for 
a painter,** says he; but he had'nt get'nt words aht 
an his mahth befooar Sally Slutterdish had t' dish- 
claht in his eyes, an Dinah Dubbletung sent t* wat- 
terdish at his heead, but it slipt aht'n her hand, an 
went smash thn ot winda: sooa wot won thing an wot 
anuther, there wer sitch a noise an bussle an scuffle 
as lie neer seed. Wa then to mend t'maiter they 
fell a fallin aht ; her wit choild sware t'tuther get 



3t I, 

J 



IHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 237 

up a purpos to sarve her aht becos shoo wodnt 
let her have no muck brass ; o avvert tuther de- 
clared her innocence, an sooa in a bit a toime they 
made things up an went on we ther wark.] 

13. At nooa marrid man shall be allah'd to go 
to onna cuntiy feeast, or onna fair, or onna club- 
feeast, or onna lozin, or tot Horticulteral Bottanicle 
Gardens, or to onna other place of amusement 
wot ivver. withaht takkin his woif we him ; becos 
if he shud tumble dahn, shoo cud pick him up 
agean. 

14. At nooa marrid man shall gooa onna where 
withaht leliin his woif where he's bahn, an then 
shoo'l kiio where to foind him ; becos hah can he 
tell wot ma happen ? an at he shall nivver no'ther 
buy nowt nor sell nowt withaht tellin his woif, becos 
two heeads is better nor won, if they be but sheep 
heeads. 

15. At ivvera marrid man shall awlis at all times, 
an e all places, an under all circumstances, whether 
e public or proivate, whether asleep or wakken, 
whether at hooam or abrooad, do all at ivver lays in 
his power to mak his woif doo as shoo loiks, becos 
shoos all't cumfort he has e this world. 

16. At ivvera marrid wumnian shall have three 
days a week for her ahn pleasure, an tuther three 
to doo as shoo loiks in, an to have her share a 
Sunday besoide. 

17. At nooa marrid wumman wots a famala a 
fore childer shall mend o'ther stockins or shirts or 
onna other warable article, but that all this sooat a 
wark shall be done bit parish, becos shoos enuff to 
doo to tak care at childer. 

X 3 



S38 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

18. At ivvera marrid woman shall have twenty 
pahnd a year allowed her bit guvvernment for 
ivvera choild shoo has aboon ten, beeos that ad 
encourage poppilation. 



Jack — There, lad, yo han em all ; an if yo'n 
ivver seen owt to cum up to em, o'l heit em. 

BiL — Nay, Jack, thah need nt ; they'r toppers, 
ol ashure the : but o understand at sum at gossips 
says at thah't nooa woman's friend, or thah'd near 
tak em off as thah does. 

Jack — If wot o say abaht em wornt true, then 
they mut say sooa ? but if it is, wot dun they 
grumble for ? — let em mend. 

BiL — O believe there's sum wot runs aht a the 
gate when they seen the cummin, an they sen, 
" Moy eye, if he sees me e this pickle, he'l have 
me it book.'' 

J AGK — Wa, o can assure booath them an thee 
at if they'r not fit to look at o shud'nt looik to see 
em ; but o avver, if they meean o'm nooa friend to 
gossipin wimmin, whoy, they'r reit enuff ; but if 
they meean prudent, industrious wimmin, o can 
just tell em at they'r woppers;^ becos o awlis have 
said, an o'l say it agean, at a good woife is't best 
blessin at a man can possess a this soid heaven: — 
beledda, t* next thawt, for won thowt offen begets 
anuther, o dooant kno wot we cud do withaht 
t 'wimmin e mooar things besoides't duties of a 
woif ; for they mannidge a gud menny things wot 
aien cahnt it religious world ; for instance, send a 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 2B9 

beautiful lass to ax yo to subscribe tot missionary 
societa, an prethe wot sooat an a cast steel face mun 
afella put on to deny her ? There wer won 
came to me tuther day, we her auburn hair flowin 
in luxuriant tresses on her snowy neck, an o'l be 
hang'd if her bewitchin smiles an her sweet address 
did nt mak me consent to her request befooar 
shoo*d spokken a dozen words. O dear, aye, 
there's magic in her varra looks wot works inter- 
nally on yer feelings, yo cahnt tell hah! yo're 
unmann'd at furst seet, yer powers of reason 
becums parraloized, an shrivels up like the sensi-- 
tive leaf when toucht; an all the might of logical 
eloquence bows witli cheerful submission before 
the silent oratory .of female beauty. 

BiL — Gud lackaday ! hah queer it is ! But its 
true. Yit sum a thease upstart phrenologists 
wants to mak us believe at hah wimmin's heeads 
is'nt made reit for larnin an stu<iy, an sitch loik» 

Jack — Hah, an sum a their heeads is nt made 
reit for spaikin truth. Wot sooat an a heead had 
Constantia Grierson, a native of Kilkenny, who at 
the age of eighteen wer mistress a Hebrew, Greek,^ 
Latin, an French, besoide her ahn language ? An 
wot sooat an a heead had Mary Cunitz, wot were 
born e Silesia ? Shoo kno'd Polish,. French,^ 
Italian, German, Latin, Greek, an*t Hebrew lan- 
guages, besoide beein weel versed e history, medi- 
cine, paintin, poetry, an music^ a gud mathematician 
an astronomer anole. An wot sooat a heeads had, 
©r has. Miss Martineau,^ Joanna Baillie,. Felicia 
Hemans, Hannah More,, Miss Edgeworth, Caroline 
Bowles,. Miss Mitford^ Agues Strickland,. ^ Mr&^ 



240 IHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Simerville. Wot sooat an a heead had Sarah 
Felden, shoo translated Xenophon ; an Lady 
Joanna Lumley, wot translated several orations of 
Isocrates ; an Madame Dacier, the author of several 
elegant translations from the Greek ; an Mrs. 
Carter wot translated Epictetus. Nah, then, wot 
will these brain -hunters think abaht this lot ? An 
we cud mention a hundred yit. 

BiL — Hah ; an besoid, wots a famala withaht a 
mother ? 

Jack — Wots a ship withaht a i udder ? Wots a 
world withaht a woman, but a wilderness ? An 
besoide, has'nt all't poets sung abaht her ivver sin 
poetry wer o'ther felt or spokken ? Sloik it has ! 
Hah cud it miss ? for all us first impressions af 
pleasure are gathered from her smile. In youth 
our dreams are brightened with visions of her 
beauty; in manhood, our life is made happy by her 
society; old age is solaced by her cares; an death 
is disarmed of half its terrors, when our last mo- 
ments are hallowed by her prayers. From her all 
the passionate thoughts an eloquent aspirations of 
a man's soul proceed. All passions, all sympathies, 
all feelings that have their origin in the affections, 
spring into being at her smile ; love comes breath- 
ing from her lips ; poetry is created by her gaze. 
AH men of understanding acknowledge her value ; 
they know that she is sent to confer happiness on 
mankind; that she breathes into our hearts those 
sympathies with humanity, and impresses on our 
natures those perceptions of morality which form 
the impassable barrier between the man and the 
brute. 



THE SHFFFIELD DIALECT. 241 

BiL— O say Jack, wot will you coud-blooded. 
sotil-freezin, external-circumstaiice-blubberhi, coiii- 
fort-blastin, quack socialists say to sitch a pictur a 
human felicity as this ? 

Jack — Let Shakespeare talk — 

" Whicli is the socialist ? Let me see his eyes, 
That when I meet another fnan like* him, 
I may avoid him." 

But see the, here's a Owenite cummin we Jooa 
Crocus. We'st have nowt gooin oiFjnst nah ; this 
is him wot dissected a sheep heead. 

BiL — There's suxmat touch't the risible^TOa- 
chinery, Jooa ; wot is it, eh ? 

Jooa — Whoy, o'm laffin at two farmer chaps 
w^ot's been fallin aht abaht recknin for a cart looad 
a hay. One on em says it cums to three pahnd 
an three hopence ; an't tuther sticks to it back an 
edge at it cums to two pahnd nointeen an thirteen- 
pence hopena, an o believe he'l feight befooar he'l 
believe at they's booath aloike. 

Jack — Well, Soimon, they sen thah*t tuni'd 
Owenite, quoite scientific anole. 

Soimon — Yis, o am, an to let yo kno, the prin- 
ciples of Robert Owen's all fahned uppa science. 

Jack — An thah's been dissectin a sheep heead 
anole, o undei-stand; thah't quoit anatommicle, 
then, eh ? 

Soimon — Yis, an that's true anole. 

Jack — Then thah'l happen ge us a bit of a de- 
scription at operation. Wot, did ta tak it tot dis- 
sectin room, or where, eh ? 

Soimon— A Owenite al nivver be ashamed a 



^^2' THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

tellin owt at he does, an sooa yo*st have it just as 
it wor. Yo moind o ne'er sed nowt to nobboda 
abaht it, an sooa o went intoi shambles at Setterda 
neet, an get won for forepence hopena, we a pair 
a oyes loik saucers, an o popt him into a bag an 
thro'd him ore me shoolder, till o get him into ahr 
garret ; an't next monin o ger up be fore o'clock, 
dubbled me sh'ert sleeves up, an faced him fair. At 
furst o havdla kno'd which ad be't best way to get 
tot insoid on him. O avver, at after o'd studdid a 
bit, o thowt it ad be't best ta set him wit teeth 
uppards, an slap at him we his mahth woide oppen, 
sooa after o*d sharpen 'd me knoife an liatchet,. o 
clapt him uppat table, an get on tot stooil, as o mut 
cleave him we a swing strooak yo knone ; an o 
made t'hatchet eroi whiz ageean, but mist me aim, 
an tumbled oiTat stooil undert table, an me lord 
roH'd oif, an his teeth cum bang ageean moin, an 
nockt these two aht (puts his finger to his mahth) 
as cleean as a wissle. O avver, o'd splitt'nt table e 
two, o seed that when o ger up ageean ; but o 
wornt bahn to ge in for that bit, becos o've heeard 
em say at ahr sanctuary at hah there's nowt dun 
withaht perseverance, soaa o up an at him ageean 
as fresh as a lark ; ant next toime o fixt him it 
winder bottom, an o fetcht him a strooak o'ert 
teeth wot made foive or six on em floi throot winder 
loik shot. But still o cud'nt foind his brains reitla, 
sooa o fixt me knoif fair uppat ridge on his heead, 
an ged him sitch a stunner wit sand -hammer at it 
sent me knoif abaht an inch intot winder bottom, an 
there it is yit ; sooa a get an oud nail an scollopt 
his brains aht a booath soides, but o cud'nt foind 



THE SHEFFIELD DIAI,ECT. 243 

wot o wanted, sooa o browt him all dahn stairs, an 
set off tot sanctuary, an whoil o wer there they 
boiled it for dinner. 

Jack — Whoy, prethe wot wor ta rooting for? 

SoiMON — Whoy, heeard ahr lecturer say won 
neet at hah they cud foind t'organ a music in a sheep 
heead onna loime; an sooa o thowt if o cud foind 
one, o'd send it to ahr Jack at Leeds for a Chriss- 
mas-box. 

Jack — Nooa bad thowt nother, Soimon ; hat o? 
understand thah'tbahn to be a lecterer, ar'ntta? 

Soimon — Sloik e am. O think it's nowt hardla 
at we're fooarst ta send to Huddersfield an Man- 
chester for em ; an besoide, o think thirta shillin a 
week ad bs as weel spent uppa me as them for 
gabblin ahr stuff. 

BiL — -An sooa think o, Soimon lad. But o say 
Soimon, o think there's a gud menny on ya wot 
maks yuse a varra foine words wot yo do nt under- 
stand. 

Soimon — O shud think not no'ther. 

BiL — Just tell us a bit a wot thah believes. 

Soimon — OVe noo objections to that. O believe 
it organ oization — 

BiL — Hah, there, organoization ; whooa kno's 
wot tfett nieeans ? Prethe where does it lig ? 

Soimon — Whoy, thah flat, it ligs just aboon 
the ear rooits, thah ma feel it onna toime. 

BiL — ^An wot dusta believe besoide ? 

Soimon — Whoy, o believe it constitution, an it 
external circumstances anole. 

BiL - -Hard words agean — constitution, external, 

an circumstance ; o mun have em explained • 

thah't to larn'd for me, Soimon. 



244 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

SoiNON — Wa, constitution, thah knos, meeans 
summat it insoide on ns. 

BiL — Webbut wot ? Does it meeari us livver, 
or stumniack, or onna a that set ? 

SoiMON — Noil, but it's summat wot iigs be- 
tween't stummack an .gullet. 

BiL — A, Soimon, that's a queer place for't con- 
stitution to ]ig in. — Wa then, wot's external meean ? 

SoiMON — O, onnabodda kno's that; it meeans 
ivveilastin, thah kno's; an ahr lecterer says at cir- 
cumstance meeans onna ihinij;. 

BiL — Allads Soimon, o think thah't quoit cut 
aht for a lecterer,* Prethe tell us a bit mooar a 
wot thah believes; but o'st not want thee to explain 
no mooar; o consider at thah't quoite finisht. 

SoiMON — Wa then, o believe at Robin Owen' 
ahr social fath'er, at Bucka's iiooa witch, an at 
nooa man can ivver be made rational whoile he's 
had his throit scolded we heitin flummera. 

2nd. O believe at Bucka gets better paid for 
playin at is phantasmagoria nor ivver he did for 
bein a tailor. 

Jack — say, Soimon, we dooant want to hear 
newt abaht no'ther Bob nor Bucka, for we believe 
at if they wer shakt in a bag, at they'd booath 
cum aht together. Prethe go on we the creed. 

Soimon — Wa then, o believe at the religion a 
Robin Owen 'st only true religion there is, becos 
it'st mooast natterable, an mooast suited to a bodda's 
feelins. 



* Our readers may "be assured that Simon is a very fair 
specimen of Owenitisli intelligence. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 245 

2iid. O believe at religion ot Bible is nt true, 
becos it waint let a bodda get drank a bit, nor nowt. 

3rd. O believe at wen nooa sitch a thing as a 
soul, becos o near seed won. 

4th. O believe at there's nooa sitch place as 
heaven, becos if there is o'm quoit shure non a us 
al be fit to go there. 

5th. O believe at there's nooa sitch place as hell, 
becos't thowts on it maks a bodda tremble. 

6th. O believe at there's nooa devil, becos we 
dooant want won. 

7ih. O believe we're not accahntable for us 
actions, becos, if we ahr, sum on us al be in for it. 

8th. O believe at religion at Bible is'nt true be- 
cos we dooant loik to practise it. 

9th. O believe at ift doctrine at Bible be true at 
Robin O win's a gret loiar, becos't religion at Bible 
says we're nobbut to have one woif at wonce, an 
Owen says it's unnatterable ; but as it al suit mo 
inclination best to have as menny as o loik, o'st 
believe his ; an besoide, bible says at we've to keep 
sabbath day holy; but ahr gret social fath'er says 
we may fiddle an donee an play all up, we're 
not responsible ; nobbut it m<;ks me feel queer 
sumtoimes. 

10th. O believe at we're all animals, an at Owen's 
system is calculated to elevate man tot standard of 
a monkey. 

Jack— There Soimon, we'n had enuff; o'd ad- 
voise thee to go hooam,nah wesh thte heade coud 
watter neet an monin for a twelvemonth ; it al 
strengthen the brains astonishingly, for o'm shure 
thaht larnin past the strength. 



246 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

BiL — Nay dooant go yit, Soimon : wot 
woman's this wots been lectering at yore sanctuary ? 

Soimon — Whoyo believe shoos nuncule to Dr. 
Morrison wot went tot Indies. 

BiL — Nay, nay, Soimon, shoos not his uncle is 
shoo ? 

Soimon — O nou ; he's her niece, o believe. 

BiL — Come o think not, Soimon (laffin, ) 

SoiMOM — O dooant loik to be laft at : o avver 
o m shure shoos his nevvy, or summat a that. 

[Exit Soimon in a pet. J 

Jack — Thaht to bad. Bill ; thah mut as weel a 
letten him gon to wesh his heead quoietly. 

BiL — O hel not be within a touch a that soooat, 
yit. But pre the, who's this cumin ? 

[Enter a stranger,^ 

Stranger — Does Jack Wheelswarf work e this 
hull ? 

Jack — Hah; cum forrad; wotdustawantwehim? 

Stranger — Whoy o'vebrowt him a varra gret 
curiosity to look at. Its sum calculations at o've 
been makkin abaht ahr national debt, an if yo think 
em worth a corner e yore book yore at liberty 
to pop em in. Here they are. 

1st. Supposing the national debt to amount to * 
eight hundred millions sterling, how long would a 
person be counting it in shillinj>s, at the rate of 
100 per minuite, and to count twelve hours every 
day, reckoning 365 days 6 hours to the year. 

Answer. 608 years, 5 months, 1 week, 3 days, 2 
hours, 40 minutes. 

2nd. If this little tiny debt were in shillings sol- 
dered together edge tc& edge, reckoning the breadth 
of a shilling to be in one inch, how many hoops would 



i THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 247 

they make that would encompass the globe, admit- 
ting it to be 25,000 miles in circumference ? 

Answer. Ten ; and 2,525 miles, 2 furlongs, 4 
yards, 1 foot, 4 inches towards another. 

JooA — Then o think it's a rare good thing at we 
han a national debt, becos we re loikla to be safer 
for it. 

BiL — Hah dusta mak that aht ? 

JooA — Whoy, is'nt a tub awlis safer when il's 
w^eel hoopt ? an o shud think t world ad be't same ; 
an especially when it*s weel hoopt we silver, becos 
thah kno's that w^aint rust. 

3rd. What would this debt weigh in penny 
pieces, supposing one to weigh an ounce ? 

Answer. 5,357,142 tons, 17 cwt. qr. 16 lbs. 

4th. How many ships would it load of 400 tons 
burthen. 

Answer. 13,392, and 342 tons, 17 cwt. qr. 16 
lbs. over. 

5th» What length of road would it pave in penny 
pieces, reckoning 25 laid edge to edge equal to 36 
inches in length, and 7 laid won upon another equal 
to one inch in depth ; the road to be 30 feet broad 
and one foot thick ? 

Ans. 207 miles, 1,394 yards, and £625 over. 

Three hundred men could not carry the weight 
of the national debt in ten pound bank notes, 512 
of which w^eigh one pound. Supposing the debt to 
be eight hundred millions of pounds sterling, it 
would weigh 156,250 lbs., w^hich for the three 
hundred men would be 520 lbs. 13 oz. each. 

Jack — Astonishing ! an o'm varra glad yo n 
browt us sitch a curiosity ; it shall gooa in tot world 
as sooin as ivver we can send it., 



248 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



DICKY OTLEY AT THE MUSIC-HALL, 
July 20, 1836. 



Jack — Wot, hasta seen't report at discussion 
between Bywater and Olley? 

BiL — Tubbe shure o have; o bowt one on 
em as soon as ivver they wer printed ; an o think 
it's jnst as they sed it. 

JooA — Nebbut it is nt ; for Otley sed at 
noine toimes noine were nointy noine, did'nt he or 
sumraat ? 

Jack — Webbut that wer a slip, thah kno's ; an't 
printer's made a nooat on't ; that's all fair. 

JooA — Whooa authorised it to be printed ? 

BiL — Whey, o rayther think booath parties ; an 
o think there's plenta a stuff for the brass anole. 

JooA — Hah, there's stuff en uff, but it's on a rum 
stamp, sum on it. Whooa in the name a ten beg- 
gars kuo's wot he meeans when he says at '' thinkin, 
willin, an consciousness are non-essential properties 
of primitive essences compounded ?" 

Jack — O, thah's not a metaphysical heead,Jooa; 
thah's not get'nt rcit sooat a organization e the for- 
heead for studdyin ontological subjects. Wot's 
thah think abaht it Bil ? 



i 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 249 

BiL — Whoy, o think there's nooa daht but it 
wer't best speech he ivver made e all his loife, or 
ivver will mak ; an mooar nor that, o believe at non 
a his brothers cud mak a better. 

Jack — They're a sorry set then ; but o believe 
it had sum varra singular properties ; whether they 
wer essential, or primitive, or primordial, o cahnt 
tell, but this o can tell, at he had'nt spokken menny 
minnits befooar won on his awn set wer fast asleep 
an snoorin loik a Saxon grunter% 

JooA — It must have been a soul-stirring oration, 
then 1 

Jack — O understand at twelve woise men's 
mooast miserably deceived in him. Sum on em 
seems to think at there wer abaht as much sense e 
them brains at he held in his hand as there wor it 
tuther at he had. Aye, aye, they sing small e ther 
champion's ear nah. The mountain's brought 
forth a mouse. My stars ! Bywater* took't sting 
aht on him that neet. Did'nt ya see his culler cum 
an gooa when't little chap wxr cuttin him keen, an 
a bitter scowl of rage nah an then passin o'er his 
maddened vizzage — indicative of some internal 
sensations harrowing up his very vitals. Yis, yis, 
his cast steel polished soul al shoine as clear as 
mud after this. 

J 00 a — Webbut o heeard say at Otley's speech 
met we a ilattenin reception. 



* Mr. Alfred Bywater, the brother of the author, who 
shortly after the above discussion entered into the Ministry 
of the Methodist New Connexion, and died triumphing in the 
Eedeemer on Monday, March 4, 1839, while these pages were 
going through the press. 



250 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

BiL — An sooa it did, Jooa, lad; fort tuther chap 
played his intellectual musherreit an left till it wer 
impossible to tell wot it wer made on, O suppooas 
there's a chap wot says at Otley's soul wer crackt 
it hardnin : but this is not true, for it wer proved 
tot satisfaction a all parties that neet at it wer left 
soft. 

Jack — O say, Bil, does thah kno hah menny 
maks a host; becos Otley says at they'n o whooal 
host a ancient fathers a their soide, an o ommast 
think they'n airt muthers anole. 

Bil — Hah, oVe just been lookin at that. It 
maks me think abaht tlass wot run intot hahce 
ommast brussen : " A, muther, there's menny a 
hunderd cats e ahr garden." " Nay, nay," says't 
muther, " not menny a hunderd surely." " Web- 
but," says't lass, "om shure there's fifta." "O 
think not," says't muther. ^' Webbur o'm shure 
there's twenta, an spaik truth." "Mo lass, twenta's 
a menni to be altogether ; are ta shure ta seed 
onna ?'* " Hah o am, for o cud sware o seed ahr 
cat an another." An sooa, Otley^s innumerable 
cumpana a holy fathers just turned aht to be twoice 
as menny as ahr cat an anuther. 

JoGA — Abbut they sen Otley 's a varra great 
historian. 

Jack — suppooas sooa, but he'l niwer for- 
get been twitch'd at t'assembly room be this same 
chap abaht Sanchoniatho. O dear, aye, he made 
him rooar aht loik a tahn bull — " Great is the 
goddess Diana." But he's a rare historian for all 
that, becos he says at history informs us at Christ 
made sparrows a clay, an set em a flying; an at 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 251 

Hercules went to heaven in a chariot a foir, an 
sitchloik. 

JooA — Wa, om as gud a historian as him, O Ve 
read abaht a joiant at wor sooa big at a gud 
soized man wor fooast to jump up to raich his 
ancles; an when he went to war wit nations, he 
used to tak a mahntin an cuvver em all. But for 
all that, dooant kno at o'lher a these tales has 
much to do wit immateriality at soul, thali kno's. 

BiL — Hark the ! Anciently, he says they'd 
three sowls, one it heead, one it breast, an one all 
o'er. 

Jack — That's nobbut one mooar nor we ban 
nah, for Otley says we n two, nobbut he cahnt feel 
em. But, says he. Dr. Johnson defines t' soul to 
be a thinkin spirit, and I define it to be breath or 
air. An sooa them wot'st woidest gullet swallows't 
mooast thinkin, an them w^ot swallows' mooast air 
has't biggest sperrit. Then between Dr. Johnson 
an Dr. Otley, we're constantly puffin sperrits back- 
ard an forrad. 

J ERR A — An is that metaphysics ? 

BiL — But hear the ! He says at philosophers 
made all essences wot had'nt extension, figure, an 
divisibility, to be speiiit. Then there is essences 
wot has'nt extension, is there, eh ? Are they spi- 
ritual essences, eh ? Oh Richard ! Mahomet 
diddled the Turks, and the Pope diddled the Pa- 
pists, and Richard Otley diddled his sen ! But 
here's anuther bit a good : " Having defined the 
word immaterial to mean nothing, we shall next 
prove the soul to be material." Allads, Dicky ! 
Let me give me awn definition of words, an o'l 



252 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

prove owt. Thus he might say ; " Havmg de- 
fined the word light to mean nothing, I shall next 
proceed to prove that the word darkness means 
sunshine.'* 

Jack — Here's anuther starcher : he says at if 
yo mak a hoil in a man's heead, at he'll have nooa 
sensation. 

BiL — Whoy, its not loikla he shud have onna 
sensation when his soul's flown aht at top an his 
heead. 

Jack — Abbut then, when he taks't gimblet aht 
on his heead, he says all his sensations al cum 
back. 

BiL — ^Wa, then, depend ont he ne'er lost em. 

J 00 A — An sooa think o; o'l ne'er believe at 
onnabodda may be rammin at a chap's brains, 
an him ne'er feel it ; not sooa : it al not doo, 
Dicky, mo lad. An besoid, they'd beloik to 
bore two hoils, becos if a chap cud'nt think a 
won soid, he cud at tuther, for his organization's 
just same a booath soids his heead. Bur o'd 
forget'n, cud a chap ger his breth wen they 
wer squeezin his brains ? if he cud, they mut 
bore whoile ther buzzard vision cud'nt see't gimblet 
befooar they cud bore his soul aht ; becos soul 
means breath or air, says Otley ; an whoil ivver 
he'd a bit a breth left, he'd have just as much soul. 
An this is metaphysics anole ! 

BiL — Bur he wants to kno where t' soul ligs, an 
hah big it is — if it is'nt extended. 

Jack — Whoy, he says at it ligs nowhere at all, 
becos he tells us at actions at moind, sitch as 
thinkin an willin, are non-essential properties of 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 253 

matter, resulting from organoization, an are nob- 
but mere accidents; just loik't cullers it rainbow, 
they are nooa reality, but nobbut reflections from 
the mind, and these reflections or accidents are just 
all the qualities at moind possesses. An in anuther 
place he says, ''Take these qualities away, and you 
take the moind away. " Wot a flat ! 

BiL— Wa then, wot says ta abaht soize at soul ? 
becos, thah kno's, he wants to kno hah big it is ; 
an o'm quoite shure onna man at ad ax that quesh- 
ton must be a metaphysician born. 

J 00 A — Wot, will ya measure bit peck or yard ? 

Jack — Whoy, o reckon all essential proimordial 
properties, as he calls em, are summat loik't thing 
at they inhere in, an sooa if we can ger houd a sum 
a them, we can happen cum at a ruflT metaphysical 
guess. 

BiL — Wot, thah means sitch as consciousness, 
willing, an that lot. 

Jack — Egzactla. Jerra, fetch us a yard wand, 
an bring a woman's conscience we the, one at long- 
est thah can foiud. 

Jerra — Beledda, lad, o think they're all a 
length, an they're not good to catch ; an besoid, yo 
mun have a male consciousness. 

BiL — Harra, cum here; thah mun gooa to 
Otley's, but thah mun gooa quoite metaphysicaly, 
thah kno's, or else he'l not kno wot ta means, 
Dusta kno wot metaphysics means, if he shud ax 
thee ? 

Harra — Sloik e doo. 

BiL — Whoy, where would ta gooa if ta wanted 
to buy onna ? 

M 



254 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Harra — Whoy, tot shamLles furst, an then (ot 
doctor, an ol be bun for*t o shud get nieit an phiz- 
zick enuff tht re. 

JooA — That's a goffer, o avver, Thah cud nt 
ge a better definition, if ta Iroid for a month. 

BiL — Quoite substantial ; but thah mun ax him 
to be so koind as to send his consciousness. 

Harry — Will it be a long an ? 

Jack — Nou, it al be just nooa lenisjlh at all. 

JooA — Then its all on a hnnp, o reckon, just 
Ipike his brains. 

BiL — Nou, bless me loife, its summat wot*s 
reflected aht on his brains, just loiko t' cullers at 
rainbows reflected aht at sun's rays. 

' Jack --Ax him it he has onna consciousness, an 
if he has, where he puts it, an whether it be exten- 
ded, an tc wot length ; whether it be as long as a 
ass's ears, an as stupid as't thing wot wears em, an 
which is't thick end on't, an sitch loike. (An sooa 
away he went, an varra sooin came hack.) 

BiL — Here he cums. Well, has ta getn it ? 

Harra — He's vast metaphysicle, o believe, for 
o'd no sooner mentioned consciousness, nor he be- 
gun a mutterin sooa queer. 

Jack — Whoy, what did he mutter abaht ? 

Harra — A dear, o cahnt remember hofe, but 
somehow a this way — metaphysically, ontologically, 
primitive, primordial essence, mathematical, imma- 
teriality, extenuated, demonstration, illustration, 
angels — o mean ancles — o nay, angles, quadrant, 
ad infinitum, substance, soul, instinct, mind, matter, 
breath, aii, steel, skull, gimblet, brains, actions, 
qualities, phenomena, vitality, pendulum, groans. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 265 

curses, lamentations, ever, ever, ever, — an o thowt 
he must be crazed, sooa o ran aht, an left him at it, 
an he's at it yit, for wot o kno. 

Jack — Wa, then, we'st beloik to leave this, an 
have a bit a organization. " The actions of the 
mind are non-essential properties of matter resulting 
from organization, and they are accidents." Nab 
oVe been teld at Otley sed afooar he went tot dis- 
cussion, at he''' ^)rove, if 't soul wornt matter, at 
hah it wor nowi. An if thahl put the proimordial 
spectacles on, an just tak a metaphysicle squint at 
wot he says, thah'l foind at he's been guilta a 
spaikin't truth for wonce. Let's ask him wot is 
consciousness, thinking, willing, an sitch loik. He 
says they're summat not essential to matter : sooa 
thah sees at once at us souls is no'ther matter nor 
spirit. Its quoit clear at poor fellow cud'nt see wot 
he wor tokin abaht. He maks thinkin a accident, 
an then tells ya at it results throo organization. 
Wa then, where ivver organization is theal be think- 
ing ; it cabnt be separated. An then ageean, he 
says at mooast at qualities at moind are actions an 
not essences (proimordial o reckon) : whoy nobboda 
thowt they wor essences. But an action implies a 
power in some being to act, dus'nt it? or can ther 
be a action withaht a actor ? Good stars ! he 
beggars all't metaphysicle gladiators at ivver ex- 
isted for argument. He can other prove at we 
have a soul or at we hav'nt, just as he loiks. Just 
look at him here : — 

** Take away all the qualities of the mind, and it 
ceases to be mind." 

" Most of the qualities of the mind exist only as 
accidents. ' 

M 2 



256 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

And yet if these accidents are taken away, the 
mind is taken away ! He might just as well say, 
tak away t' culler at rainbow, an you tak away t' 
rays at sun. dear ! O dear ! wot problems is 
these ! If hofe a pahnd a cheese cost fourpence, 
wot wud a cart looad a turnips cost ? But that's 
mathematics ! Bur he wants to kno whear all 
animals gooa too when they dee. 

BiL — Whoy, he mun aks't saddlers ; for o wonce 
heeard won say at if he did'nt gooa tot Christian's 
heaven, he shud be shure to gooa tot horse heaven, 
for he'd spent ommast all his loife e makkin ther 
collars easy. Sooa if they knone wheart' horse 
heaven is, they'l be't loikleist to tell Otley whear 
allt rest all gooa too. But hark here; are morality 
depends on the natural organization of man. 

Jack — Then a man cahnt help bein a thief can 
he? 

BiL — Not if he's get'n a thief's heead he 
cahnt. 

JooA — Webbut he did'nt mak his heead his sen, 
an think it wud'nt be reit to punish a chap for 
dooin wot he cud'nt help. 

Jack — Nou, lad, it's a hard case, varra; but wot 
a soft oud kofe nature must be to mak thief heeads, 
an sitch loik ! whoy did'nt shoo mak em all homiest 
ans ? 

JooA— Hah are we to telt difference betweent 
heead on a rooag ant heead on a fooil ? 

Jack — Whoy, thah mun look at their comer 
teeth. 

JooA — Wa, then, if a chap turns his woife aht, 
an lives we summada's else's, wotst cause on it ? 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 25T 

Jack— Whoy, t' shape on his heead. 

JooA — If a chap meets anuther uppat hoi-* 
Tooad, nocks him dahn, an robs him, wot'st cause 
a that ? 

Jack — Shape on his heead. 

JooA — If a chap commits adultery, incest, an 
sitch loik, wot'st cause a that ? 

Jack — Shape on his heead. 

JooA — If » chap be a drunkard, a loiar, a swind- 
ler, &c., wot'st cause a that ? 

Jack — Shape on his heead. 

JooA — If a chap be varra gud, virtuous, chari- 
table, kind, &c., wot'st cause a that ? 

Jack— Shape on his heead, 

JooA — -Wa, its queer. 

BiL — Its all a piece a humbug, ant circumstance 
a Otley wan tin to alter it proves at he did nt kno 
wot he said. 

JooA — Webbut Otley says he could loik to have 
anuther gooa al him. 

Jack — If hel submit to ahr terms he shall ; 
namely, he shall sit in a tw^o-arm'd chair for hofe 
an hahwer, fair it middle at orchester, we a pair a 
asses ears nailed reit an left uppat chair back, 
pointing to his proimordial cranium, emblematical 
of its contents. But he'l not do that, he's o'er 
prahd ! 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



THE SHEVVILD CHAP'S ©PINION 
ABAHT PROIZE FEITIN. 



BiL Heftpoip— Well, o say. Jack, wot thinks 
a abaht toimes nah P 

Jack Wheelswari — Whoy, mo lad, they re 
rayther flat just nah; but o hooap when't Americans 
gels houd at brass at's been sent, at the'l be a bit 
better. 

BiL — Flat ! toimes hard ! bad trade ! — whoy, 
there's heeaps a Shevvilders gon thirty moiles lo 
see two men turn ther sens into summal at there's 
nooa comparison for, no'therbe sea nor land. Hah, 
even men we won leg it grave, an't tuther varra 
near in, has gon all that way to see (o m ashamed 
say wot) two men feit. Wot thinks ta abaht 
hat set, eh ? 

Jack — O, they're gentlemen a soiance, an though 
thah ma think em harden 'd wretches, o can ashure 
the, they're men wot can varra often soften won 
anuther. 

Jog A — Adder say thah'd think soon if thah felt 
ther sleds{e-hammer lists abaht the toll-dish. 



THE SHEiFIELD DIALECT. 25^ 

BiL — 0, toll-dish, eh ! ihah's been e Walter 
Scott's "Ivanhoe" for that, o fancy; but it's a 
manly exercise, there seems summat so noble in it, 
— summat at al mak a chap think a good deeal 
abaht his sen, whether onna bodda else does or 
not. 

JooA — Njble ? — is'ntit angelic ? 

Jack — Nou, it's not angelic, becos there's to 
much sensation in it. 

BiL — Whoy ahr schooihnester yus't to tell 
us at hah it wor vishus for dogs to feit, much 
mooar men. 

BiL — Abbut ahr schooilmester's gon abrooad, 
nah ; things has tain menny a turn sin then. A 
man's reckon'd a gentleman nah for dooin wot he'd 
a been hang'd for wonce. There' nowt dun with- 
aht steeam an soiance nah -days ; if a chap's eyes 
is to be bung'd np, it mun be dun soinatiffically, or 
else he's reckon'd a blaggaid. 

BiL — Wa, o'd awlis a varra different opinyon 
abaht wot made a gentlema ; to be shure o may 
be wrang, sin things as tain a lurn. 

JooA — Whoy, does ta nivver read t' Lunnon 
Bull-dog-feitin Gazett, thah kno's ? 

BiL — Nou, wud'nt suffer that thing to cum 
within seven moile a mo hahce, if o cud help it. 
O think it a national pest, — a national curse, — 
— a disgrace tot press, as weel as't country. O 
think it the blakest, the most demoraloizing, 
the varra foulest production in circulation ; an 
if ivver there shud be a reason for cursin the art of 
printin, it ad be becos sitch a mass of corruption 
wer suffer 'd to contaminate the moinds of the roisin 



260 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

generation. Its contributions is made up a chal- 
linges to feit other cocks, dogs, or men, from 
all the scum an filth in the cuntra. That's 
mo opinion abaht that paper. 

JooA — Webbut if thah'd ivver read it, thah'd a 
seen at there's gentlemen dog-feiters, gentlemen 
proize-feiters, gentlemen cock-feiters» gentlemen 
swindlers, gentlemen gamblers e humun life, 
gentlemen pickpockets, gentlemen murderers a 
one another, an gentlemen vagabonds a ivvera grade 
an description. Bless the loif, man, onna villan 
can get tubbe called a gentleman, if he*s nobbut a 
good, hand at his villany, 

BiL — Then o'm to understand at if a fella can 
mush a chap's frontispiece whoil it'st culler of a 
cofe's heead, when it's been hung in a butcher's 
shop a munth, or pummel it whoil its as soft as a 
rotten turnip, or nock won or booalh is eyes aht, 
at he's a gentleman, eh ! 

Jack — Egzactla, a furst-rater, fit to wear t' belt 
in a Christian cuntra, under omia Christian 
guvvernment, an even where christian bishops sit 
as legislators. 

BiL— O it's brutish wark ! — Human brutes ! — 
wot a paradox ! 

Jack — Wot, does thah meean to compare these 
foine-lookin gentlemen, wot's get'n booans loike a 
bullock, an a fist loike a leg a mutton, to brutes ? 
Thah'd better not let em hear the, for if ta does, it's 
not varra unloikla at there al be sum comparison 
between thah heead an yore gret saucepan* An 
besoide, dus'nt thah think at when thah sees a chap 
respectably drest, walking abaht streets we a pair a 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALEOT. 261 

black eyes, an his arm in a sling, at he looks vastla 
loike a gentleman ? An then, hah useful it ad be, 
when we'd a bit a spoite agean a chap, to be quali- 
foid to nock his day-leets up, or to lig a fella 
sprottlin it muck, just bit way a sattlin a argument. 
There's nooa soffistra e this ; nou, nou, it's an ap 
plication to the feelins, withaht t'help alogic; an o'm 
just thinkin if they'd adopt this system it Hahce a 
Commons, they'd not stay measuvhi tungs till two 
o'clock it monin ; brother Gully ad clear 't hoil on 
em menny a toime befocar midneet, we arguments 
mooar substantial an sensable nor's varra offen 
livver'd aht e that shop. 

JooA — Nab, o've heeard say at when these gen- 
tlemen gooas to leit, at they varra oifen nock won 
another's heeads till they're as soft as blubber. All 
that ma be true, but o think here's summat else at 
has'nt been consider'd. 

Jack — Hah ? wot's that ? 

JooA — Whoy, it stroikes me varra fooarcible at 
they wer soft befooar they went, an there's a varra 
foine sample a soft ans gooas to see em. 

BiL — O think, Jacka, thah's been trailin us a 
bit. Just tell us, e good eernist wot's thah opinyon 
abaht em. 

Jack — Whoy, thoine's bad enuff,but moines ten 
toimes war, if possible. Hah monstrous ! hah 
unnatteral ! hah inhuman ! hah wretchedly be- 
sotted e ignorance ! Here's two fellas meet in 
perfect health an strength, we a fixt an firm 
resolution to smash won anuther to pieces ; an 
then here's two mooar at same kidney, wot stans 
beheent em, to see at they kill ther sens soiantiffi- 
M 3 



26^ THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT 

cally. This lot is enclosed it insoid on a ring, at 
aht soid a which is collected together all the vavra 
dregs of society ; an just accooardin tot state at battle 
does each party shaht, an sware, an bet, an cheeat ; 
an whoil they're shah tin, an betiin, or cheeatin, 
there's another set a gentlemen bizzy ^e pickin ther 
pockets. Well, by an by, won at feiters is dun 
up, his jaw's bvokken, or a eye nockt aht, or his 
bodies mauFd an bruised e sitch a manner at he's 
fooast to ge in. Wot then ? Whoy, after gettin 
three pans murder'd, an disabled sooa at he can 
nivver work agean, the very men wot back'd him al 
curse him to his face, an tell him he wer nivver fit 
to feit at all. This lot gooas away rayther chop- 
fallen ; but the winners rend the very hevvens we 
ther shaht, just as if the greatest enemy of mankind 
wer for ivver annihilated. Well, the man is tain 
away, an a doctor sent for ; but his wahnds baffles 
t' skill at physician, an in a short time he s 
deead. Well, wot do yacall this ? — Manslaughter ? 
Nou, o call it wilful, deliberate murder ! an ivvera 
man wot bets a sixpence uppat issue, has a share in 
it. Wot, then, are we to think a sitch men wot 
siuddy a soiance, as the} call it, fort s le purpose 
a killin an maimin won anuiher, an thus bid de- 
fiance alike tot laws a God an man? Here, then, 
religion is laft at, humanity kick'd a won soide, an 
all't moral feelins stultifoid to summat ten toims war 
nor brutish stupidity. Could it ever a been 
conceived possible at men should be sooa depraved 
—sooa monstrously wicked — sooa shockingly blas- 
phemous, as to mak the eternal destinies of the 
human soul a gambling speculation ? O look uppa 



iHK SHEt^IELD DIALECT. 2&S 

tliese fellows as the varra lowest of the low, an iheir 
system the wickedest of all the wicked ; ivvera 
thing connected with it is bad, an its demoraloizin 
influence on society is not tiibbe calculated. Just 
look at state of a tahn loik this, where won a these 
disgraceful scenes is to tak place. (But, by the 
way, it is to the eternal honour of Shewild, that 
these fellows cahnt get to show off within thirty 
moil rahnd.) Whoy, just this, ivvera workshop, 
ivvera jerry-shop, ivvera gin shop, an even in the 
oppen street, feiiin's common topic of conversatioi}, 
an mooar they toke, an mooar iher feelins become 
blunted : an this is particularly t* case we lads. 
An then, to imitate these gret feiters, these 3'oiing- 
sters, throo thirteen to eighteen, mun mak pitcht 
battles, an gooa intot fields on a Sunday tubbe 
shure ; an these feel thersens quoit men we a pair 
a black oyes, or a stunned finger, an ther arm in a 
sling. An if yo shud happen to say owt to a gang 
loik this, yo'l pratta sooiu have hofe a dozen fists e 
yer face, an volleys a curses, an theyl smash yer 
ribs in a cupple a shacks. An even sum parents al 
larn ther childer to do mandozar befuoar they 
can o'ther walk or toke ; — mooar shame lor em ! 

JooA — Nah, o'l just tell the hah o'd have these 
feitin men saived. All wot wanted to feit shud be 
put into a pinfoud, wot shud be woled twenta yards 
hoigh, an nobbada be alah'd to see em ; they shud 
be made fast in for an hahwer, an wen they cum 
aht they shud be trail'd rahnd tahn in a cart^ e 
boxin order, just as ivvera bodda cud see hah two 
fooils cud mump won another ; an at ivvera street 
corner be pelted we rotten eggs ; an then be sent 



264 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

tot tread-mill for a munth to finish ihei eddication. 
This sooat a phizzic ad ungentleman a good meniiy 
on em, o'l warrant it. 

BiL — Nah o wunder wether these chaps gets 
drtmk soiantiffically or not ? 

JooA — Tubbe shure they doo, an if yo shud 
happen to say owt to em wot wod'nt pleease em ; 
they'd just ge ya a soiantific bung o'ert nooas, an 
mak a gentleman on ya in a minnit ; an wooa can 
grumble ? becos all men profess to be lovers a 
soiance. 

Jack — Whoy,its not meniiy weeks sin a noble 
lord wer playing Jim Crow, e company we a feitin 
man, an he wor tain up be't police, o believe. — 
Varra fome, this, eh ? 

BiL — Whoy, knew a noble lord at yused to 
keep a bear. 

JooA — Hah, there's nooa accahntin for taste ; 
but he wor a lord, or else he'd a been call'd a 
blagguard. 

Jack — Whoy, mun, here' lots a lords regular 
gamblers, an o think that ist reeason at they care 
so little abaht these feitin men. They seeminly 
can feit onna where abaht Lunnun, an have it ad- 
vertoised for a week afooarand, withaht ivver being 
stopt bit police. O say they owt to put t'law e full 
fooarce, at ivvera won wot kill'd another shud be 
troid for Wilful Murder. An o'l tell ya anuther 
thing, an that is, at if onna man, whether lord or 
duke, be a gambler, or a feitin man, at he shud be 
for ivver disqualifoid for a legislator. 

BiL — Wa, then wot's to be dun we this proise- 
feitin nuisance ? hah is it to be put dahn ? 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 265 

Jack — Let justice be done; let ivvera man at 
taks t' loif of another be hanged uppat spot where't 
murder wer committed, an then the foulest blotch 
at ivver disgraced a Christian nation shall be for 
ivver wiped aht. 

BiL — Nab, adder say these feitin men al think 
we're varra hard on em ; but its ahr opinion at 
we're sent intot world for varra different purposes 
throo proize-feitin. We happen tubbe won a them 
sooat a animals wot believes in the existence of a 
God ; that we possess an immortal soul, which must 
exist in a future state ; an that ahr eternal destiny 
depends varra much uppa ahr conduct here : — we 
believe at men al be judged accordin to ther works ; 
an altho' we're not merit mongers, yet we do think 
at ivvera proize feiter must merit the displeasure of 
his maker, if he die with his sins unrepented on. 
We think we are sent intot world tubbe virtuous, 
not vicious ; — tubbe kind, not cruel ; — tubbe loving, 
not to be abusive ; — not only to sluddy ahr awn 
happiness, but the happiness of others. Nah we 
think at proize-feitin just leads tot contrary a all 
these, an we greatly daht to summat war. As 
parents, as citizens, as mesters, as lovers of ahr 
species, we spaik aht uppa this subject, because it is 
most ruinous booath to body an soul, the con- 
sequences of which raich beyond the limits of 
time. 

JoGA — They'l say thah't a methodiss. 

BiL — An if it wornt a better method nor theirs, 
o'd varra sooin forsake it. Mo Methodism has 
ivvera thing in it an abaht it wot's calculated to 
mak mo happy, honest, and honourable, an the 



560 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

worst wish o wish these feitiu gentlemen is, that 
they were influenced by the same principles. 

JooA — Wa, o kno'd a Meihodiss parson wot ad 
been a boxcr^ an abahtamunth after he wer con- 
verted, a chap cum to his hahce one [neet an nockt 

at dooar; — " Duz Jack live here?" "Yis," 

says t'man, ''an wot does thah want we Jack 

?" " Whoy, oVe browt thee a challinge to 

feit Bil in a muiith." '* Oh," says t' man, 

'* thah mun gooa the way back, an tell Bil at 

Jack is tuvn'd Methodiss, an if he'd sent his 

challinge two or three week sooner, he'd a get'n a 
good hoidin." 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

THE SHEVVILD CHAP'S OPINION OF 

ROBERT OWEN'S SOCIALISM, 

AS EXHIBITED IN THE 

SOCIAL BIBLE. 



Jack — Well, Bil, he's cum'd at last, an browt 
his social physic we him. We'st all be transmugri- 
foid into perfection nah. We'n all been wrang 
ivver sin't world stoud, an we'n all been sitch a pack 
a flats at we nivver cud foind it aht till Robberd 
Owen cum squeealin in tot world, an fun it aht be 
his own sharpness. 

BiL — Wa, then, o think it a marsa at he is 
cum'd, becos it's nivver to late to mend, they sen; 
an it's nooa sacret at sum on us ad be no war if we 
wer a bit better : for good lack-a-day, we're in a 
queear woild, an if he's cum'd to mack us onna bet- 
ter, o m shure we owt to be thankful. 

Jack — A, goodness^ man, he'st varra essence of 
perfection itsen ; he's just chap wot's wanted to 
reggilate us top garrets, an mak us wot we awlis 
thowt we wor, — viz. rational beins. He's a philan- 
thropist, if ta kno's wot sooat au a thing that is. 



268 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

BiL — Stop, ol get dix'nary. Let's see, wot mim 
e look for ? F i's, o reckon. {Looks cahnt foind 
it,) It's not in, it must be a new word, an he 
must have a new system, an he's bahn to mak us 
all new, an we'st have a new world altogether. An 
then he'l mak Solomon tell a fib, for ^^ he sed there 
wer nowt new under't sun. But mooast loikla 
Robbin kno's better nor Solomon. 

Jack — Hah, he can see a midge throo a six 
inch plank better nor Solomon cud see won throo 
his barnacles. 

BiL — This is't age a disscovvera; here's mar- 
vellous things cums to pass nah days. (Tui'ns 
o'ert dix'nary.) O, but it's here, o see ; it's amang't 
p h i's. Nah then, let's see. — Oh, '' Philanthropist, 
a lover of his species." Wa, then o shud think he 
must be a reit an. 

Jack — Whoy, there nivver wer won loik him 
befooar, an thear al nivver be won loik him no 
mooar; for if his system be true, then there's 
mooar wisdom concentrated e his skull than there 
ivver has been e all't skulls at ivver possesst brains 
befooar, an his name's shure to be handed dahn to 
mortallata we a wither; he's pratta weel kno'n in 
Amerrica allredda. 

BiL — Wot, has he been dooin Jonathan ? 

Jack — Yis, he diddled Jonathan, but unfor- 
tunatla he diddled his sen anole. He bowt a piece 
a land there sum years sin, an troid to establish his 
socialism there ; an he get sum as silly as his sen 
to join him, an foine fun they had for a whoil ; for 
this system allow'd em to fiddle an donee all't day 
on a Sunday, an they call'd it rational ? But they 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 269 

cud'nt amalgamate ; — the rich lasses did'nt loik to 
gooa a milkin^ an he daubed we cah muck, to he 
laft at hit pooar ans. O avver, they continued to 
fiddle an donee tilt hlunt wer gone, an then this 
marvellous moral doctor donst o'ert Atlantic into 
England, to administer his syrup here; an nah 
he'st donst into Shevvild, an ohooapall't wimmin it 
tahn al mak him donee aht agean to the tune of 
the "Rogue's March." For if his system be 
adopted, farewell domestic happiness for ever ! — 
hecos e his new system there's to be nother husband 
nor woife, nor onna distinctions a this sooart. 

BiL — Wot, does he praich agean domestic hap- 
piness, an's a lover of his species — eh ? Nah o 
awlis thowt at genuine affection between husband 
an woife, when regulated and influenced by pure 
religion, produced the happiest state possible. 

Jack — O tell the there's to be nooa husband nor 
woife ; for we're not lo live e families, as we doo 
nah, but e " communities and associations of men, 
women, and children, in the usual proportions, 
from two hundred to three thousand, as local cir- 
cumstances determine." 

BiL — Then we're not to be married, but we're 
to pig together e lots, — a sooart an a seraglio con- 
sarn, for't men to gooa to when they loik. Well, o 
shud think that chap wot tokes a that fashon's no- 
ther a rooag nor a fooil, but just ready for a stret 
jacket But let me ax em, what earthly name is 
so dear as that of mother ? what earthly relation- 
ship or state can produce affection so strong or 
pure as that of husband an woif, mother an dowter ? 
or wot name so noble an manlike as that of fath'er 



270 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

an son ? An is these distinctions to be for ever 
banished ? is the sacred institution of marridge to 
be broken up, which binds society together with ties 
most indissoluble, eh ? 

Jack — Let Owen answer : "The only founda- 
tion on which the temple of human happiness can 
be erected, is a rational commonwealth, divided into 
oommuniiies of property ; wherein no artificial dis- 
tinctions will* be known ; where the irrational sounds 
of husband and wife, and master and mistress, will 
not be heaid." 

BiL — Houd, houd, houd. Jackal that't stuffin 
us a bit. 

Jack — Abbut, ain e ? he says uppat same page, 
*' In such a state of society the travail of the female 
will be divested of all i^.s pains/' Wot thinks ta 
abaht that — eh ? 

BiL — Allads, Owen ; if o wer a woman, o shud 
wish that state to cum sooin. Then he dus nt be- 
lieve at these pains is't consequence a sin. 

Jack — Poo! fudge, lad; he's a reggilar reit 
dahn atheist; he no'ther believes in a boible (as a 
revelation), nor a boible God. Hark the wot he 
says he believes: — " I believe that all facts prove 
that there is an external or internal cause for all 
existence ; but that man has not yet acquired a 
knowledge of any facts to ascertain what that cause 
is, or any of its essential qualities."* 

BiL — He's another Dick, o hear— won at oud 
schooil. O wot a wonder-workin world we're in ! 

• * Almost all the modern pretended atlieits believe in 
«ome sort of a first cause, but like Owen they do not know 
what it is. 



tHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 271 

he'l just suit a lot at o kiio. An sooa we're all to 
turn Turkish Sultans, an't women Sultanas ! 

Jack — An we're all to follow us awn inclination ; 
there's to be no rich nor poor — we're all to be on 
a level ; au nioi stars ! we shall have fun ; we st 
have ivvera thing wot we loike to live on, an we*st 
heit, an stuff, an stare, an guzzle, till we're as fat 
as butter ; an then we'st fiddle and donee for exer- 
cise, an to finish us fun, we'st all donee intot sera- 
glio, and end neet up there. Wa then, we'st work 
when we loike, an as little as wo loike, an travel 
when we loike, an where we loike, an A — it will be 
noist 1 

BiL — O rare Bob ! he's fun sumniat aht, o av- 
ver; there's nooa wonder on him gettin disciples, 
but o think he'l not get menny rich uns, though o 
wonce knew a chap fooil enutf to thro abaht four 
thahsand pahnd after John Wroe an that set, an 
nah he's uppat parish. Alas poor human natur ? 

Jack — Abbut he's made a vast menny discoveries 
abaht men an childer, an they're publisht e wot's 
call'd the Social Bible. 

BiL — An wot are they, prethe ? 

Jack — Whoy, he says at hah nooa infant has t' 
power to decide when he shall be born. 

BiL — Wa, hah in the name a goodness can a 
infant decide when he shall be born after he is 
born ? an hah can he decide befooar he is born, 
eh ? Well dun Bob, 

Jack — Wa, ihen he ses at nooa infant can de- 
cide whether his father shall be rich or poor. 

BiL — Hurra ! Nah suppose it possible for a 
infant to do won o these things; when is he to do it ? 



272 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Is he to do it befooar lie's born, or after ? Nah o 
wunder whether Robin could tell me whether a pig 
can see*t woind or not. 

Jack — Thirdly, he says at its possible to taich a 
choild at two an two maks four. 

BiL — Nah o wunder whether Owen did nt lafF 
at his sen when he writ that. Whoy its possible 
to mak a choild believe at two an two maks seven. 
But o'l bet owt Owen cahn't tell wot's t'reeason at 
two an two maks four, as much of a witch as he 
is. 

Jack — Fourthly, he says at hah its possible to 
mak a choild believe at black's whoite,an at whoit's 
nooa culler at all. 

BiL — An wot be that ? he can't mak a man be- 
lieve it, weihaht he be as crazy as he is. 

Jack — Fifthly, he says at hah it's absolutely 
possible to mak a infant into a rational being. 

BiL — He's a rare guesser; but o think his 
father wer nobbut a poor tooil at that trade. 

Jack — Sixthly, at it's possible to mak a choild 
into a irrational being. 

BiL — Hah, his existence proves that. 

Jack — Seventhly, at all men believe a thing to 
be true when they're fooarst. 

BiL — O shud think he fun that aht when he 
wer in America, for he wer fooarst to believe at his 
system wud'nt work weel there, o shud think. 

Jack — Eighthly, at ivvera man, woman, an 
choild loikes that wot's pleasant, an disloikes that 
wot's unpleasant. 

BiL — Thah ma depend on't Owen gets up e 
rare toime in a mornin, or he'd near fun that aht. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 273 

Jack — Ninthly, at ifonnaboddaheits or drinks 
till they're ommast brussen, they're shure to feel 
uneasy. 

BiL — Sans pareil ! 

Jack — Tenthly, at no man can tell whether a 
apple be sweet or sour till he's tasted it. 

BiL — But he may have a good guess. 

Jack — Eleventhly, at all men feel't best when 
they're e perfect health. 

BiL — Not when they're bahn to be hang'd. 

Jack — Twdfthly, at all men are in a state 
of perfect happiness when they're e nooa state 
else. 

BiL — Thah's dun o hooap : if thah has'nt o'st 
cut. 

Jack — Nou, nor hofe; but if thaht toired o'l 
ge o'er ; but o avver, these is't part of a lot a dis- 
coveries wot Robin's made, an which he's been 
pleased to reveal fort cure of a distempered 
world. 

BiL — Whoy, nab, e gad sadness, thah dus'nt 
pretend to say Owen's publish 't sitch stuff as thah's 
been tokin abaht, dusta ? 

Jack— Beledda, but o doo, an ten toimes 
mooar if ta'd patience to hear it. If o wer to tell 
the sum mooar abaht him, o'l tell the wot thah'd 
say. 

BiL — Hah, wot ? 

Jack— -Whoy, thah'd say at he wer organically 
mad. He says at hah man is a creature of cir- 
cumstances. 

BiL — Oh, he's won a that lot, is he ? 

Jack — There's anuther thing or two at o want 



5^4 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

the to hear if ta will but keep the temper whoil o 
tell em the ; becos they'ie reggilar good ans . 

BiL — Well, but if they're as soft as t'last lot, o1 
thro sum swarf e the face. But o avver, gooa 
on. 

Jack — Wa, then, he says as much as this; — 
at if a chap's skull be square, or ovil, or rahnd, or 
nooa shape at all, at he's not responsible for it. 
{A gret uprooar, an Bil gets a handful a 
iivarf.) 

Bil — Moind thehoies; thah dus'nt meean to 
say at he maks use a them words e his boible, does 
ta? 

Jack — Whoy, not exacila ; but he says wots 
exactlatsame meeanin. He says at nooa man's 
responsable for his physical organoization. 

Bil — Whoy. a flat, ahr cat kno's that. 

Jack — Witta have a bit mooar ? 

BiL — Hah, o'm prepared for owt nah. 

Jack — Wa, then, he says at nooa man's respon- 
sable for hearin a mule role ; or to let the have his 
awn words, -" No one shall be responsible for the 
sensations made on his organization by his exter- 
nal circu instances. ' 

Bil — Whoy, that s just same thing. But is'nt 
he responsible for't manner in which he allows those 
sensations to operate and influence his conduct — 
eh, sharp Bob ? 

Jack —But o've another proime bit; — if a chap 
meets a lass it street, an begins a huddlin her, an 
sitch loiks, nobbada al tak no nooatis, an they'll 
not be ashamed, let em doo wot they will, becos he 
says at e his new state a society, *' there will be no 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 275 . 

absurd feelincjs of shame created on account of the 
natural affections which arise between individuals 
of the opposite sexes." 

BiL — Goodness ! we'st be loike Adam an Eve, 
when ihey wer first created. — Wot innocent craturs 
we St be, for sartin ! 

Jack — Hah, an e this new^ state a things, w^e'st 
not be bothered we churches an chapels, an prachin 
an prayiu. O dear non, Sunday an warkday al be 
all aloike. As for't Bible, whoy, Robin believes 
that's all a loi, or piiestcraft, or summat else. All't 
religion wols necessary is to spaik truih. Bob says 
that to worship God as we do, is necessarily 
destructive of the rational faculties of those trained 
in the practice of it. 

BiL — \Va, all at o've to say abaht that is just 
this, at he's a loiar; an that's a short answer. 

Jack — Webbut he says at nooa man's respon- 
sable for his belief. 

BiL — Wa, an if there's nivver been a revelation, 
he isn't ; but even if there had nt, dusn't a man's 
belief influence his actions ? Is he responsable for 
them, eh ? 

Jack — Hah, that's a corker, Bil ; but he says 
at man's characier is form'd for him. 

Bil — Oh, that's all fud^^e ; a man forms his 
awn character. Is a man comppll'd by his nature 
to be a thief, a drunkard, or a murderer ? 

Jack — Owen tells the ai it al depends on his 
organoization, an't circumstances by which he*s 
surrahned. 

Bil — Wot, he cud'nt help it, eh, an thearfooar 
he's not responsable for it ? Nab o wunder if 



276 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

a chap wer to meet Owen sum neet, an administer 
a sahnd floggin, an then tell him at his 
organoization an surrahndin circumstances com- 
peird him to do it; would he be satisfoid we 
that ? 

Jack — Tubbe consistent with his aw^n principles, 
he'd be loik. 

BiL — Then a hooap he*ll get it, an sooin. 

Jack — But Robberd says, at all past an present 
systems are of an irrational character ; but 
my system is of a superior an virtuous charac- 
ter. 

BiL — O dear yis, I am the man, an wisdom al 
die we me. But o say Jack, witta gooa an hear 
his lecter ? 

Jack — Wot dusta meean ? Dusta think o spend 
mo toime a that way ? When onna chap cums 
tot tahn to toke common sense, whoy o m there if 
its possible ; but o dooant run after sitch a hare- 
brain 'd goose as Bobby Owen no'ther. Nou, nou; 
mo external circumstances waiiit let me, or else me 
organoization, o do'nt kno which. 

BiL — There al be plenty gooa if thah waint. 

Jac^- — Hah, an o cud tell the t' names of a 
gud menny. O kno that lot, an has dun a 
menny years ; they're a promisin set o'l uphoud 
the ; .they'n been a gret blessin tot tahn an so- 
ciety in general ! how they do but love 
ther woives ! Good stars ! wot world renova- 
tors they are. Yes, yes : they re mooast on em 
vast fond at seraglio system. It's vast odd 
is'nt it, at these wisdomit^ cahnt stick to ther 
woives ? 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 2T7 

BiL — Whoy, it's ther organoization wot does it ; 
they cahnt help it. 

Jack — Does thah organoization mak thee toke 
nonsense ? 

BiL — 'Sloik it does ! an thoine maks thee a woise 
man ; but there's nooa -praise due to the for it, becos 

thah't fooast tubbe woise, an o'm fooast tubbe 

eh ? Wot fudge ! 



278 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



THE SHEAF BRIDGE ORATORS, OR A 

NIGHT IN THE OWENITES' 

SANCTUARY. 



Whether impostors sinner it, or saint it, 
If knavery grows ridiculous, I'U paint it. 



BiL — O say Jack, o went to hear t' Share Brig 
orators tuther neet, an a foine treat o had anole. 

Jack —Oh, thah did, did ta ? wot, o reckon it 
wer the external circumstances wot compell'd thee 
to gooa, or else the organoization, wor'nt it ? Thah 
heeard sum lodgick, o'l warrant it. 

BiL — It wer't mooast laffable consarn at ivver ta 
seed e the loif — it wer a reggilar bull-baitin. There 
happen'd to be a young chap throo Leeds there, an 
he shaved sum on em rather to cloice ; an o'l be 
hang*d if o did'nt think they'd a hettn him. There 
wer won varra poloite socialist, in whom dwelt all 
the essence of good-breedin, — nay, he must have 
been ommast perfect e Owen's blessed socialism, an 
top full an even brimmin o'er we charity; — he 
cvoid aht, " Thah't a brazen'd young d 1, o 



avver 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 279 

Jack — Wot ! a socialist call a young man a 

d 1 ; whoy, o shud think they'd send him tot 

moral hospital, to get his organoization rectifoid, 
wud nt tha ? 

BiL — Abbut there were anuther wot called him 

a d d young b — g — r, and thretten'd to nock 

him dahn. 

Jack— That cahnt be true; for they're all on 
em sitch good-natur'd souls at they cahnt no'ther 
doo nowt nor say nowt to hurt onnabodda. 

B XL— Wot o've said o'l sware to e onna cooart e 
England, an o'l say mooar; — o'l say at o nivver 
heeard sooa much blagguard language e onna 
meetin e all mo loif. Bur o avver, he turn'd em 
o'er as fast as they came, booath young an oud. 
Not a single argument could be answer 'd. O near 
seed sitch a mob a socialists ; o m quoit shure if a 
philosopher's horse ad been amang em, he'd a kickt 
ther brains ah t. 

Jack — O deny that. 

BiL — Wot*s ta mean be that ? 

Jack — Whoy, o meean there wer non to kick 
aht. Bur o say, Bil, did ta kno onna at spaikers ? 

BiL — Nou, o cahnt say at o did, but o can ge 
the a bit of a description a sum on em, an adder 
say ihah'l kno em. There wer won oud man, a 
verra noist, luvvin sooart an a oud man, we a pair 
a spectacles on, an he'd sitch a noist weedlin, can tin, 
greeasin way a spaikin, onnabodda ad a thowt ad he 
wer won at mooast innocent craters it world ; he'd 
wesht his face in a laver of hypocrisy, an dipt his 
tongue in the oil of deception, an his words wer as 
soft as childhood's smile, or woman's look of love. 

n2 



280 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack— -An pre the wot did he toke abaht ? 

BiL — Whoy, abaht morality, an responsibility, 
an sitch loik. He said at when onna chap broke 
a moral law, at he were awlis punisht in his sen for 
it. Well, there wer a young chap j umpt up, wot 
kno'd at this oud chap wornt livvin we his awn woif ; 
an he said he thowt he cud mention sum sins 
ageean a moral law at a man wornt punisht in his 
sen for. Suppooas, says he, at a man seduces his 
neighbour's woif, and thereby ruins the peace of a 
family, is that man punisht in his sen ? 

Jack — Moi oie, but that wer a clench er ! 

BiL — Hah, an ivvera bod da seed it, ant oud oily 
tongued goat felt it keenly, for he skulk t into a 
corner, an nivver slio'd his hypocritical face no 
mooar that neet. 

Jack — They'l say thah has no charita. 

BiL — Nou, Jiou, not much ; but its me organ oi- 
zation wot compels me to use't sledge hammer to 
sitch chucks as these. 

Jack — Wa, an whooa did ta see besoides ? 

]BxL — Whoy, seed anuther chap, wot cum up 
to this young man when he wer toking, an after 
he'd spued abaht seven hundred yards a ribbins, 
made a blast furnace on his mahth, an conjured 
abaht a hogsheead a pins, an sitch loik. he says, 
• *^ Boy, boy, boy, — did ya hear owt nock ? I'll meet 
ya any where, an discuss the question with you." 
^' If you can bring any one at can talk common 
sense, bring em," says't young chap ; " but o'm not 
going to spend mo time e talkin to you." But 
wot dusta think ther talented lecturer cum up we ? 

Jack Nay, to guess thats impossible: becos 



THE SHFFFIELD DIALECT. 281 

there's nowt no'ther to soft nor monstrous for em 
to say> an smn on em's not varra noist abaht wot 
they dun. 

BiL — Webbuthe wanted to cram it dahn fooaks's 
throits at Christians wer suppooarters a slavery. 

Jack — Whoy, he came throo Lunnon anole, 
did nt he ? 

BiL — Hah, o believe he did. 

Jack — Wa, then, its quoite clear to me, at there's 
as big thickheeads e Lunnon as onnawhere else. 
But did'nthe kno at Christians obtained emancipa- 
tion to a great extent ? an dus'nt he kno at Chris- 
tians is nah troyin to exterminate it altogether ? 
Did'nt he kno at slavery wer quoite opposed tot 
spirit at gospel an Christianity ? His Lunnon 
buzzard organical vision cud'nt see at there's a 
world a difference between a Christian e name an 
won e practice. But o say, just let me ask, wot 
has the infidels done towards Negro emancipation ? 
Have they sent petitions to Parliament for its 
accomplishment ? Have they sent missionaries 
abroad to evangelize em — eh ? When did they do 
these things ? Never ! The've never been guilty 
of a good action as a body sin't world stood, but 
they've been guilta of ivvera croime wot can he 
mentioned, an the commission on em's been aggra- 
vated by their pretensions to right reason. An 
now, forsooth, we've get'n infidelity drest up in a 
new habit, hypocritically called Socialism; an the 
great prophet of this social gang has publisht to 
the world that marriage is prostitution ; — that to 
worship God is irrational ; an we all't crazy impu- 
dence imaginable has asserted that he — do'nt mis- 



282 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

take me — that he, Robert Owen, who has got a 
patent to mak a world full of new organical skulls ; — 
that he, Robert Owen, the philan tropical originator 
of the seraglio system; — that he, Robert Owen, 
the first propagator in England of Sunday fiddlin 
an donsin ; — that he, Robert Owen, founder of the 
rational system of adultery;- — that he, Robert Owen, 
the only individual who ever attempted to turn 
England into one common brothel, by living in 
common, under pretence of reciprocal affection; — 
that he, Robert Owen, author, orator, an system- 
builder to Burns's Nick-a-Cloota ; that he, Robert 
Owen, is at this minnit in possession of the best 
organized skull, an has it fixt uppat best pair of 
organical shoulders at ivver wer stuck on a organized 
trunk, or carried abaht be a pair a organical legs ; 
an consequently, he says, we all the self-esteem 
which is indicated by a bump on his skull abaht 
soize a mo fist, — that he, Robert Owen, is the only 
rational man I ! 

BiL — Allads Jack ! But dusta kno at they'd a 
social fiddlin festival a Wissunday, at Share Brig ? 

Jack — Whoy they had nt, had they ? O wonder 
whether there wer onna reciprocal affection stirrin 
amang em, eh ? becos they're sitch innocent lovin, 
affectionate, charitable, gud sooart a craters, an 
nivver does nowt but wots natterable, thah kno's — 
eh ? But hah dusta kno at they'd a festival there ? 

BiL — Whoy, o doo kno, becos two young chaps 
wot kno, went into em to to aks em if they'd let 
em have their room to deliver two lectures in 
ageean Owenism; an they wud'nt let em have it. 

Jack — An had they onna fiddlers ? an wer they 
booath men an women in ? 



IHE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 283 

BiL — Hah, they'd two fiddlers ; an dusta think 
at they'd he wethaht the ladies ? Not sooa ! reci- 
procity for that. 

Jack — Webbut, wud'nt they let em have 't 
room ? 

BiL — Nou, lad, they'd geen em enuff't neet 
afooar. 

Jack — O moi stars ! A whooal gang a Owenites 
scared ah t a ther wits at two young men; dare'nt 
let em ther room to discuss ther awn doctrines. 
Well, that's a starcher ! it's just as it should be. 
But o avver, there did'nt appear to be much reci- 
procity of feelin, at onna rate between 't parties. 

BiL — Nou, they wertrang sex, thah fiat ! But 
wot sooat on a excuse did they mak, thinks ta ? 
They teld em at if they let it they shud braik ther 
contract. Nah, that were just a social lie ; becos't 
landlord teld t' young men he'd nooa daht at they'd 
let it em, an even went we em to see. 

Jack — O then, they mun be reported, an we'll 
have em sent tot lying hospittle, o'ther to have new 
tongues, or toud ans new organoized. Then did 
these young chaps get a room onna where ^ 

BiL — Hah, they took Tahn-Hall for three neets ; 
but they went a second time tot socialists, an there 
if ther wornt twenty or thirty apparently young 
lasses set, and two or three oud goats we em ; an 
its generally thought at they were taichin em't 
reciprocity catechism. But hark the !— Gentle- 
men we are all on Ub craturs a necessity, an all us 
actions is necessary : ivvera man wot hears me 
spaik here this neet were under a necessity to cum 
here. Yo may think yo came in be chonce, but o 



^84 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

tell ya there is nt sitch a thing as chonee : its all 
fudge : yer external circumstances, an yer organ- 
oization compelled yo lo cum in. An o can tell 
ya this at yo'n nooa choice a yer awn, becos yore 
compelled o'ther to gooa away, or else stop where 
yo are. Abbut, says a chap, shall o be com- 
pelled to stop here another hahwer ? O says t' 

lecterer, external circumstances al determine that. 

Webbut, says't chap, if o say at o'l gooa aht a 

this room at exactla noine o'clock be mo watch, 
can o pleease mesen whether o gooa or not at that 

toime ? O most certainly you can, if you think 

proper to go. O then, says't chap, when a fella's 

compelled to please his sen wot he does, that's 

necessity is it ? Most certainly, says't spaiker ; 

becos yore compelled to make a choice. 

Jack — Wot a tomma ! 

BiL — Abbut, hark the a bit longer. Noine 
o'clock cum directla, an this young chap says, Nah 
mester, o'm bahn to gooa away. Yis, says 't lec- 
terer, external circumstances compels you to go. 
That's a lie, says three or four wags, wot get fast 
houd on him ; external circumstances compels him 
to stay ; an O moi goodness ! wot a crack a laffin ! 
Soilence ! shahts 't lecterer — Gentlemen, I wish 
to explain to you the beautiful system wot we wish 
to establish e this large and poppilous tahn. Gen- 
tlemen, w@ shall have no distinction of character in 
our state of society; — we shahnt have my Lord 
Thingembob, an my Lady Lueza Carolina, duchess 
o Wot you may call it ; — we shall be all on a level. 
Gentlemen, we shall have nooa beggars ; (croies of 
hear, hear !) we'st no'ther have kings nor priests ; 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 285 

{Jiear^ hear, from the infidel benches ;) an conse- 
quently^ we shahnt have em to keep. [Hurra /) 
Gentlemen, man is a compound being, whose cha- 
racter is formed for him of his constitution or 
organization at birth. Wa, then, shahts a chap, 
if it's formed for him at his birth, it's a screeamin 
character. That's not true, says anuther, is'nt it 
a man's actions wot determines his character ? 
Yes, to be shure, says 't lecturer. Wa, then, says't 
chap, hah can his character be formed befooar he's 
ivver perform'd a single action — eh ? Wa, then, 
there wer another uprooar. Gentlemen, says't 
lecturer, I shall not stay to answer such silly 
objections. These young men have got'n a quibb- 
ling organ oization. Therefore I shall proceed.— 
Gentlemen, man is compelled to receive his feelins 
an convictions, independent of his will. Indeed ! 
says anuther, what do you mean by his constitu- 
tion ? — do you mean his organoization only, or 
the whole man himself ? Oh, the whole man him- 
self, says't lecturer. Oh, then, he receives them 
independent of himself; — that is to say, he re- 
ceives them, but he dus'nt receive them. An this 
is Lunnon lodgick, is it — eh ? 

Jack — Thah maks me think abaht one a these 
socialists at Leeds wot ad get'n necessarily drunk, 
an sooa he wer necessiated to kick up a row ; an 
sooa it necessarily happen'd at one at police get 
houd on him, an necessarily lockt him up all't neet. 
Sooa t'next monin it wer necessary to bring him 
befooar won at magistrates, to be examined abaht 
this necessary row at he'd kickt up. Well, says't 
magistrate, what is it you have been about ? Oh^ 
N 3 



286 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

says 't man, o think it's a shame to* bring me here 
for dooin wot o cud'nt help dooin. Yes, says 't 
Justice, and so think T ; but what is it you have 
been doing ? They say you have been breaking 
the peace, my man. Yis, sir, but o wer predesti- 
nated to kick up a row, o cud'nt help it. Oh, in- 
deed, you wer predestinated to kick up a row, were 
you ? Well, then, I'll just tell you what I am 
predestinated to do ; I am predestinated to fine you 
twenty shillings and costs for being predestinated 
to kick up a row ; so that you will have the pleasure 
of paying for predestination. And I can tell you 
more ; — if you come here again under similar cir- 
cumstances, I shall be predestinated to do some- 
thing for you very handsome. 



287 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 



THE PHRENOLOGICAL FARRAGO OF 

CHARLES THOROLD WOOD, ESQ. 

WHEELSWARFT. 



BiL Heftpoip — ^Well, Jack, wot's matter we 
the, this mornin ^ thaht in a brahn studda, o think, 
arnt ta ? 

Jack Wheelswarf — Hah, ov'e been dooin a 
bit it brain way. 

BiL — Wot, has ta been grooapin summada's 
brains ? for there's a vast deeal a noise abaht brains 
nah-days; wen concentrativ brains, philoprogenitiv 
brains, amativ brains, adbesiv brains, combativ 
brains, alimentiv brains, secretiV brains, acquisiiiv 
brains, an constractiv brains. 

Jack — Abbut there's anuther sooart a brains wot 
thah's not menshon'd. 

BiL — Hah ? wot sooart's them ? o thowt o'd 
menshon'd all there wor it brain kallender. 

Jack — Nor hofe, lad, thah neer sed nowt abaht 
soft ans, an moind me if there is'in mooar a this 
last sooat stmTin nor thaht aware on, 

BiL — Webbut thah did'ut say wot thah wer 
thinkin abaht so varra cloisiy. 



)388 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack — nou, but o wer thinkin abaht us brain 
bein't organ at moind ; o mean, thah kno's, t' thing 
wot t' moind maks use on as a sooart an a main 
spring, to ge nooatis tot moind hah things is gooiri 
on, t' rooad to it liggin throot senses. 

BiL — Fudge, lad, it's all up we that doctrin nah ; 
oVe summat e mo pocket wot just turns all that 
sooart a philosophy upsoid dahn, an it's written be 
a chap wot thinks he knose all abaht it, because he 
lives in a varra foine hahce, an's had a varra foine 
eddieation, an sitch loik. 

Jack — Hah ! prethe whooa is he when he's 
enufF? 

BiL— Whoy, he's a varra rich man, an his 
name, whoy it issent hooak nor yit hezzle ; but it's 
Wood for all that: hah, Charles Thorold Wood, 
of Campsall Hall, an if wisdom dus'nt dee when he 
dus, it al be in a consumption, depend ont. 

Jack — O dear, o dear, is it him ? Whoy he's 
van'a latela been delivered of a lecture it Lyceum e 
Don caster, abaht grooapin t skull, an it wer pub- 
lished e Shevvild. 

BiL — Hah, that's wot o've getn e mo pocket, an 
there's won paragraph wot o want the to look at, an 
if ta can lig the intellectual wusher abaht it, doo, an 
let it swing reit and left ; but o'l read the't paragraiF, 
an then thah may gooa at it. '' The word mind is 
calculated to mislead, for it suggests the idea of an 
existent being, whereas in fact it designates merely 
a function or action of the brain, to which it stands 
in the same relation as digestion to the stomach, or 
respiration to the lungs." 

Jack — A, mo lad, that doctrine wornt bom at 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. JI89 

Campsall Hall ; it cum aht at crazy brains a 
Lawrence. 

BiL — Lawrence, Lawrence ; whoy thah dusnt 
meean oad Nock, dus ta ? 

Jack — O desoir thah nivver fouls the lips we 
that name no mooar. 

BiL — That a] be as it happens; get on we the wark. 

Jack — Wa then, it furst place, accooardin tot 
Campsall Hall doctrine at human moind,it's no'ther 
matter nor sperrit ; it has nt a positive existence ; 
consciousness, willin, judgin, an all us powers a 
reason in, have ther existence it action at brain, an 
when that action at brain's dun actin, whoy then 
t'moind's dun existin. All ads Thorold Wood ! if 
sitch stufFis nt worthy a bedlam, tell us wot is ? Nah 
then, mester Wood, das't brain act continually ? is 
it awlis e action, or is it nobbut sumtoimes e action ? 
nah, it's loik to be won at two, there's nowt else for 
it, an yo shall have yer choice which. 

BiL — Wa then, o'l say for him, at its awlis e 
action. 

Jack — Wa then, if it is, he reckon 'd withahthis 
host, becos ift brain be awlis active, then we'n awlis 
a moind, an't moind ad just be as much an existent 
bein ast brain is. 

BiL— Wa then, o'l say for him at brain is'nt 
awlis active. 

Jack — Wa then, there must be a toime when 
w^e ha'nt a moind^ — when we've nooa consciousness 
of us existence, nay when we dooant kno at we 
doo exist. 

BiL— Whoy, we dooant kno that when we're 
asleep. 



I' 



290 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

Jack — Abbut we think when we're asleep, an 
mester Wood cahnt tell us when he is'nt thinkin ; 
for even if he cahnt remember his dreams, that's 
nooa proof at he has'nt dreiiit ; an besoid dreams is 
caused wilhaht onna thing actin uppat brain to pro- 
duce a operation, becost senses is shut up,usmoind*s 
shutters is put too, an there fooar there's nooa 
brainish action e dreams ; wot dun ya think abaht 
that, mester Wood, eh ? 

BiL — Moi hoi, oud lad, but that's a stunner ! 
At him ageean. 

JACK--Wa, he says at mcind stans it same rela- 
tion tot brain as't digestion does tot stomach ; — nah, 
then, can ther be onna sitch thing as digestion with- 
aht summat material to digest ? 

BiL — Wa, o think o may say nou for him there, 
o avver. 

Jack — Varra well ; can there be onna action at 
brain, withaht brain be acted upon ? 

BiL — Wa, o dooant kno wot sooart a eagle-eyed 
vision mester Wood has, but o cahnt see hah there 
can. 

Jack — Wa, then, prethe wot material action at 
brain is it wot maks t' moind reflect uj)pen itsen ? 
Is it a sooart an a josslin at brains together wot 
causes this reflection ? this cahnt be, becos we can 
reflect uppat operations on us moinds, withaht bein 
bumpt o'er us toll-dish to joggle us brains abaht, 
just a purpos to mak us think. 

BiL — If these Campsall Hall gentlemen can i 
spawn no better food for philosophers nor this, 
whoy, o think they'd better keep it at hooam to 
cram ther turkeys. 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 291 

Jack — Nah, o shud just loik to kno wot loikiiess 
ther is between a action at brain an a action at 
moind? Is'nt brain matter ? an can there be on n a 
action withahtmooation ? — material action o meean, 
thah kno's. 

BiL — Whoy, o think not. 

Jack — Then ift brain acts at all, it's a move- 
ment at particles at brain throo won part at cranium 
to another. 

BiL — Exactla, an o think Thorold ad say sooa 
anole. 

Jack — Nah, then, wot's a action at moind ? 

BiL — Whoy, perception is a action at moind. 

Jack — Come, then, tell mester Wood hah it's 
done. 

BiL — Sloik o will; wa, then, suppooas Wil- 
loughby Wood's proposition at he get throo me Lord 
Brougham is placed befooar us, viz., at man is'nt 
responsible for his belief; wot faculty at moind 
will it call into operation to detect its fallacy ? 
Whoy, this proposition is made up of letters put 
into words; these pass in swift succession o'er the 
retina of the eye — that is, t'images a these, thah 
kno's — till at last that faculty call'd perception dis- 
covers't relation wot they bear to won anuther; 
then cums mester Reason, an gets oud on em, an 
riddles em weel to get all't chalf aht, thah kno'z, 
till at last mester Perception cums agean, an he 
sees at wonce at this proposition is defective, becos 
men are influenced by certam motives to believe 
certain things ; an therefooar it shud a been a this 
way ; — man is nt responsible no 'ther for his capacity 
of understanding, his opportunities of knowledge. 



292 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

sufficiency of evidence, nor the motives which in- 
duce his belief. Then last of all cums mester 
Judgment, an drawst black cap o'er his face, an 
pronahnces me Lord's wonderful gret truth wot's 
gone forth, to be a gret summat else — yo ma guess 
wot. Nah, then, is ther onna likeness e these two 
operations ? The first, in fact, is not a operation, 
nor a action no'ther ; but the second is a noble an 
intellectual operation. 

Jack — Webbut, just for a lark; if't moind a 
man is produced be a action at brain, the mooar 
violent that action is, the bigger't moind ad be, be- 
cos ivvera bodda kno's at there's big moinds an lit- 
tle ans. Nah, o wunder whether Charles Thorold 
Wood's be actin just nah ; if they arnt, whoy, then, 
he's just nooa moind at all ; an as he seems varra 
ambitious for poppilarata, o'd advise him to run his 
heead ageean a ruff stooan wall, an moi stars, he'd 
have a moind loik a steam wheel boiler ! But 
suppooasin this phrenological materialist should 
happen to be stannin on his heead t'next time his 
brains begins to operate, hah then ? 

BiL — Whoy, then his moind ad be stannin on 
its heead anole, an all his thowts ad be tum'd 
up sold dahn. 

Jack— Wa then, he must have been stannin on 
his heead when he delivered his sen on his lectur, 
for all his thowts ar't wrang end uppards, an they 
Stan up just loik't boolders e Lichfield-street. 

BiL — Webbut he happen meeans at moind is 
caused bit particular organoization at brain. 

Jack — Organoization can produce just nowt at 
all ; becos nooa organoization can act whoile it.s 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 29S 

acted on. Did ta ivver see consciouness floy aht 
an a steeam ingin ? 

BiL — Nou, mun, it is'nt organoized reit for it. 

Jack — That's true^ nor nooa other organ oization 
is ; an as to Mester Wood's tokin abaht moind 
bein't action at brain, whoy all at that proves is just 
this, at Mester Wood's capable a tokin nonsense, 
becos, as Tse sed afooar,ift brain be awlis active, then 
we'n awlis a moind, even accooardin to his awn 
dogma! — nah then, Mester Wood, yore brain pro- 
duced yer moind did'nt it ? 

BiL — O'st say yis for him. 

Jack — Hah did he get to kno that ? 

BiL — Whoy, his muther fetcht him a claht o'ert 
heead won day, an set him a thinkin loik a spmnin 
jinna. 

Jack — Ho — ho — that's just funna, is'nt it, at 
brains is fooast to mak a bein a purpose to kno at 
we han brains ! But we'st call him tot scratch 
abaht anuther thing ; — he says at t' word moind 
designates merely a function or action at brain; but 
Mester Wood, will yo be so good as just to tell us 
Shevvild groinders hah thowt is secreted it brain ? 
an w^hen it is secreted, e ^yhat crevice at knowledge 
box does it lig ? Nah as yore sitch a thick an 
thin phrenologist, mooast loikla yo'n grooapt menny 
a skull booath insoid an aht, an's seen an handled 
menny a peck a brains ; doo, o beseech ya, fort 
credit a yer awn brains, be van'a careful when ya 
split up anuther toll dish, to see if ya cahnt find a 
soul e sum corner ; there is won depend out, sum- 
where ; if yo should happen to see a perception 
stickin aht, or a will, or a consciousness, slap oud 



294 THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 

on him we booath hands, an drag him aht altogether 
(for if yo get'n won all't rest al follow,) an show 
him up it Lyceum e Doncaster, an a boiled turnip 
to yore brains at yo get'nt furst prize it grooapin 
community. 

BiL — Throo wot wen seen an s known a Charles 
Thorold Wood, we'n ivvera reason to believe at he 
disbelieves it existence a sperrit, an at he believes 
at there's nowt exists but matter. 

Jack — A, bless the loif, if thah were to talk to him 
abaht a sperrit, he'd laff whoil his brains shackt 
anuther soul aht. 

BiL — Wao'l bet him a shillin he cahnt demonstrate 
t' existence a matter, and then o'l lig him another at 
o can demonstrate t' existence a moind ; — hah then 
will he prove at matter exists ? 

Jack — O reckon he'l say he can see it. 

BiL — Abbut he cahnt see it. 

Jack — Not if he's blind he cahnt. 

BiL — Nou, nor if he'd all't eyes e Campsall he 
cud'nt see it. 

Jack — Explain. 

BiL— -Well, hah does he get his ideas of outward 
objects ? 

Jack — Throot medium of his senses. 

BiL — Hah, for instance, all these outward things 
are pictured on his eye, an these images is seen bit 
moind; he dus'nt see't objects thersens, but merely 
t'figures on em ; an besoide, wot ivver his ideas may 
be, these ideas is within him ; they ar'ntits objects; 
sooa hah does he kno at he is nt deceived ? But 
it's varra different wit moind ; we're not dependent 
pn us senses for ahr knolledge of us moinds ; we're 



THE SHEFFIELD DIALECT. 29^ 

all on US conscious of sensation^ an thowt, an sitch 
loike ; an sooa thah sees, after all this stuff an stur, 
these wonderful wooden Woods, wot's bahn to tuni 
't religious world upsoide dahn, to establish ther 
phrenological, brain-splittin system on its ruins, at 
they cahnt, nou, not all three on em — for they're 
all of a kidney — even demonstrate the existence of 
matter. But mester Wood's absurdities dus'nt end 
here. The mind is an act of the brain; so that 
whenever he can set the brain e action, he creates 
a whole moind at one strooak, we all its powers. 
A dear hah, consciousness, perception, conception, 
willing, judgment, nay, ivvera attribute at mind is 
browt into being at one single twirl ; an when that 
twirl's twirl 'd its last twirl, alas, alas ! all these no- 
ble faculties are untwirl'd. 

Jack — Nah, then, mester Wood, yo happen 
did nt kno at there wer onna sitch chaps as us lived 
e Shevvild, an if yo'd kept yer farrago within eight 
moile a Doncaster,yo happen wud'nt a kno'n still ; 
but o avver, yo'l foind it aht nah at we n tain yore 
phrenological mongrel, an duckt him e ahr wheel- 
kit, an turn'd him aht intot world to be hooted an 
hunted till he kennels e some empty cranium within 
t'walls e Campsall Hall. 



J. H. GREAVES, PRINTER, EXAMINER OFFICE, SHEFFIELD. 









LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




003 080 019 9 



mr^^ 












LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



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